


All I Need

by beeyouteaful



Series: All I Want/All I Need [2]
Category: British Actor RPF, Jaguar "British Villains" Commercial
Genre: Angst, Espionage, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2018-09-28 10:40:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 33,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10093532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beeyouteaful/pseuds/beeyouteaful
Summary: He fell for her out of desire.(A prequel to “All I Want” from Tom’s perspective.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know I said I wasn't sure when I'd post the prequel, but I've had the first chapter done for a few days now. I figured I might as well publish it now (I'm too excited about it). I hope you enjoy!

Tom’s shiny black dress shoes clicked against the marble floor as he sauntered through the galleries. In all honesty, he wasn’t quite sure why he’d accepted the invitation. His ideal Sunday night didn’t include wading through multitudes of gala attendees, and he didn’t plan on buying any of the art. But he used it as an excuse to get out of the house.

Work had been hectic lately, especially with trying to get the security team up to par with the new system. After the last infiltration attempt, he had no doubt that something had to be done to increase precautions. He would make sure that there was no way whoever kept trying to get inside his company was going to succeed. However, this meant increased workload and long, extra hours spent in his home office.

The businessman made his way to the modern art wing of the museum, hoping to find some peace from all the guests. Instead, he found a young woman standing alone in front of a display. There was _something_ about her that kept him from choosing a different room. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he couldn’t stop staring at her from the entryway.

Her dress was surely beautiful—a deep maroon, floor length evening gown, complete with a plunging V-line that stopped just above the small of her back—but that was just a dress.

Maybe it was the way she stood out against the blank canvas with her champagne flute held up slightly to her side—as if she were the painting meant to be there.

He took a deep breath and decided to approach her.

“May I join you?” he asked, sauntering up from behind.

“Of course.” She stepped to the side but kept looking ahead at the work. He examined it closely, and then turned toward her to start a conversation.

“How do you feel about modern art?” He inwardly scolded himself for asking such a dull question.

“I love it.” Her eyes scanned the placard on the wall. Tom glanced at it too, skimming through the description. “I think it’s interesting how the focus of art now is on the process and artist’s emotion rather than the product.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” He sipped from his whisky glass as she finally turned in his direction. Her eyes glittered up at him, and he could barely contain a gasp. She was even more stunning than he imagined. She smiled shyly in silent greeting.

No, it wasn't the dress or the way she posed—it was just _her_. Her whole aura was enchanting. _A masterpiece_ , he thought.

“A beautiful answer from a gorgeous young woman.”

“I’m (y/n),” she told him.

“Tom Hiddleston.” He took her hand and pressed a chaste kiss to the back of it, noting that there was no ring on her finger. The absence of a ring didn’t lead to a solid conclusion. She was most likely unmarried, but could she be in a relationship? If she was, then why no date? It couldn’t be serious if she didn’t invite them. His mind reeled with possibilities, but ever the hopeful romantic, decided he’d flirt with her anyway. _No harm in trying_.

The pair stayed with each other the whole night, talking, laughing, drinking, and sneaking away to the hors d'oeuvres table. Tom couldn’t stop watching her painted lips move as she spoke to him. The urge to pull her in for a kiss completely overwhelmed him. Why did she make him lose his cool like this? Certainly, she was beautiful… but this man was the CEO of his own damned company, for Christ’s sake. He thought he would be a little more collected and charismatic. Maybe more alcohol would’ve helped.

His mind wandered back to his relationship theories and chose to investigate.

“So. What’s a beautiful, young woman such as yourself doing at this gala?”

“I’m here in my dad’s place. I don’t usually come to events like this.”

“Ah, a last minute affair. Is that why no date?”

“Well, _that_ and the fact that I have no one to ask.”

There was his answer. She _was_ single.

“Then may I have this dance?” he asked with a waiting hand. She grinned and accepted, and the pair made their way to the ballroom. He couldn’t help but admire her from the side. Her hair and makeup were perfect; no strand or lash out of place. His gaze fell to the shiny gold dangling from her ears. “I like your earrings. Beautiful little doves.”

“Thank you.” He loved the way she blushed. At least he knew she wasn't callously confident. Or avoiding his advances.

“Actually, I quite like that. _Little dove._ May I call you that?” God, he hoped he hadn’t sounded like a tit. Even if she was somewhat shy, he didn't want her to think he was some ineloquent fool.

“You can call me _anything_ as long as it’s in your wonderful accent.”

Tom chuckled and turned with her slowly to the string band playing across the room. _What am I worried about? She’s obviously attracted to me as much as I am to her._ He hummed along with the tune and pulled his companion closer.

“I’m very smitten with you, little dove.”

“And I, you, Thomas.” The sound of his full first name made his stomach flip. No one ever called him that, but he decided that he’d let her call him anything as well. Not to mention that she just admitted to liking him back. This felt like primary school all over again.

“I bet you say that to all the men.”

“I bet you call all the women you meet cute nicknames.”

“Nonsense. Never have I connected with a woman like I have connected with you tonight,” he admitted. “You truly are something special, little dove.” He inhaled deeply as he pulled her close. She smelled sweetly of flowers, and he never wanted to let go.

The two danced and danced, far longer than any other couple at the gala. The Jazz band had long finished their set, but the young romantics hadn’t let that stop them. Tom was sure the whole thing came straight from a fairytale. (Y/n) was certainly princess material.

“I hate to cut our meeting short…” she confessed, a sad glint in her eye as she parted from him.

“Tell me I’ll see you again.”

“I can only hope, Thomas. Like I said before, I’m not one for events like this.”

He led her to the foyer. “Tell you what. If we meet again, this happens.” He waved between them.

“And if we don’t?”

His heart panged with loss. “Then… this turns into a blissful fairytale memory.”

“But I’ll regret everything if I have no way of contacting you again.”

Tom searched her eyes for any signs of deceit. Why there would be any, he wasn’t sure, but he had to be certain she was willing to meet him again. He pouted as he thought over their plan. Then he looked at the coat check and decided what they would do. He pulled her along and asked the attendant for his jacket.

“I’ll give you this then.” Tom took it as he remembered his tailor left a little contact card in one of the pockets.

“Thomas—”

“My information is hidden somewhere in there. Put it in your closet. I’ll be around for the next three weeks at events like this, hoping to see you. After three weeks exactly—no more, and no less—if we haven’t met again, and you find where I’ve hidden it, you find me.”

“You’re Cinderella-ing me?”

He laughed with her. “It seems that way.” He placed the coat around her shoulders. “Until we meet again, little dove.” He took her soft hand in his and, again, brought it to his lips. “Farewell.”

He watched as she, seemingly reluctant, exited through the giant oak doors. He couldn’t believe his luck. He had been hoping to find someone interesting at the gala to keep him company, and by God, he found her. There was no telling if he’d meet her again, but as he thought of all the work he’d have to do in the morning, the memory of her dazzling silhouette in front of the canvas brought a smile to his lips. Tom hadn’t planned on buying any of the art that evening, and to his surprise—as it turns out—the art had bought him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a reminder, please subscribe to me and/or the series All I Want/All I Need to stay updated! I hate asking for subscriptions but this is the easiest and fastest way for you to know when I publish something new here.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

Tom awoke from a  _ very _ pleasant dream the next morning to several texts from his right hand woman. He sighed and stretched while wondering what Monday would throw at him. 

He went through his routine as usual—showering, shaving, brushing his teeth, and picking out the perfect suit to wear to work. He would’ve made breakfast, but he wasn’t at home; and although his hotel suite did have a full kitchen, he didn’t feel the need to stock the fridge with anything. He’d just order room service or get something on the way into the office. This was his vacation—if you could call it that. Even with a laid-back schedule, he had plenty of events to take up his time, and there was still tons of work to do in his office. Sadly, that ever-present workload meant no time for cooking.

But even so, Tom found some time during his morning prep to think about the previous night—about how beautiful that girl was—and wondered if it were all just a dream. He remembered dancing with her and holding her in his arms; the smell of her perfume; how she looked in that dress; the way her laughter made his heart stop. There was no way she had been real. But further inspection of his closet proved otherwise—he smiled when he noticed his coat missing from its place. The night  _ was _ real. His little dove was out there somewhere.

He sighed again as he tightened his tie. He regretted their Cinderella plan.  _ Should've just gotten her number like a normal person, idiot, _ Tom admitted. He didn’t know why he’d suggested such a stupid idea. Maybe it was all the Disney movies he watched as a kid. 

The day ahead of him was daunting, especially with (y/n) on his mind. Nonetheless, Tom finished getting ready and left his suite. After all, the company wouldn’t run itself—though Talia was getting pretty good at it. He made a mental note as he drove to his office to remember to thank her for all she did for him… but with what? A cake? Bonus check? Fancy dinner for her and someone special? She was usually the one he’d go to for suggestions… He’d just have to figure it out himself this time.

His sleek, white Jaguar fit perfectly in its parking space beneath the building. He patted it with pride before he locked it and went on his way to the elevator. The ride was always long, and Tom never knew what to do during his ascent.

“Hold it!” someone shouted just before the doors closed. Tom stuck his Louboutin-clad foot out to catch the doors as his other top employee jogged inside. “Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t mention it.” He flashed a curt smile at him. “Good morning, Will.”

“Mr. Hiddleston.” Will nodded back. “How was the gala?”

“It was… lovely.” How did he know about that? Had Tom mentioned that to him last Friday? Will wasn’t one for that kind of thing. Maybe Talia had said something to him.

“Any good art?”

“It was all good. Didn’t buy anything though. I was just there to be there.”

“Mm,” was all Will replied. The two men rode the lift up to the 36th floor where a sea of cubicles greeted them. They parted ways to go to their respective offices and begin work for the day.

Will had always been quiet and private, so his willingness to ask Tom such a frivolous question seemed a little out of the ordinary, but he didn’t think much of it otherwise. He and Talia seemed to get along, and they worked well together, so he didn’t have a problem. Though, it was odd; Talia had only been working for the company for about three or four years, yet Tom trusted her a lot more than Will—not that he didn’t trust Will. Talia just had better people skills.

Tom shrugged it off and unlocked the glass door to his office. As he sat down at his desk, his duties were quickly forgotten in favor of a continuation of last night’s dream.

 

_ “Thomas,” she moaned with her arms spread wide, gripping the sheets. “Oh god, Thomas…” A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he lapped at her silky cunt. She arched up off the bed, and his fingers dug into the soft flesh of her thighs to hold her down. She was a drug to him, like nothing he'd ever known—so smooth and so delectable. He could never get enough.  _

_ Tom took her clit in between his lips and chuckled deeply, sending shivers up her spine with a shout. He knew just what buttons to press with her, and her pretty little moans pressed all of his. _

_ She was soaking. Her second orgasm coated Tom’s chin, but he didn't mind. He sat up from her and wiped it all off with his fingers—then drew each of them into his mouth to clean as he watched her with hooded eyes. Her breasts heaved. _

_ “Let me repay you.” She began to sit up, but he placed a flat hand to her chest and eased her back down. _

_ “Ah, ah. No repaying, darling,” he replied, crawling up her body. “You're my guest. I'll do all the work.” The businessman dipped his head down to claim her lips as he slid his cock into her. He swallowed her cries of pleasure and thrust as slowly as he could. She was so slick—it was hard to control his speed. He pulled her hips up to get a better angle.  _

_ “Don't stop—never stop.” (Y/n)’s pleas were a symphony that spurred his movements on. There was no stopping him now. The bed creaked rhythmically as they savored the moment. Tom leaned down to nip at her neck. _

_ Their bodies glistened in the early morning sun. She clung to him as they reached mutual release. He didn't stop thrusting until her shuddering ceased beneath him—and when it did, he pulled out and collapsed at her side. _

_ (Y/n) grimaced, and he noticed, even without looking at her. _

_ “I've never let anyone come inside me before.” This made Tom grin wolfishly at her.  _

_ “How indulgent of you, little dove,” he mused, reaching down between her legs to slide two fingers up her cunt and collect some of their shared release. He brought it to her lips, and the younger girl sucked his digits into her mouth with abandon—his cock twitched at the feeling of her tongue swirling around them. When she relinquished them, he decided to have a taste himself. “Delicious,” he growled.  _

_ The pair lay together on Tom’s California King as the sun rose in the sky. Beams of light painted her supple skin, and he traced some with his knuckles. This was perfect. She was perfect. _

 

“Mr. Hiddleston.”

Tom jumped in his chair. He’d never been caught daydreaming before. The two stared at each other, Talia clearly not expecting him to react like that. He cleared his throat.

“Yes. What is it, Talia?”

“Did you get my messages this morning? We’re having a briefing.”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

“Right. Give me a few minutes.”

Talia nodded and backed out of the door. Tom sighed and ran a hand through his hair. There was no way he’d be caught dead with the erection he had right now. He jumped up and shook his arms out, willing himself to be less  _ excited _ . The thought of the long meeting he was about to join really helped bore him out of it.

After he made his way to the conference room, his mind wandered again to (y/n). He wasn’t sure why he was so smitten with her. He hadn’t felt this way about a girl in a long time. She was so attractive, both intellectually and physically.  For a moment, he scolded himself for objectifying her so much, but as he stared down the expanse of the dark table, he couldn't help but imagine laying her back on it and taking her for all she was worth.  _ Get a hold of yourself, Hiddleston. _

He heard his name through the haze of his daydream. God, what was with him today?  _ She’d better find that business card fast _ , he mused. The Brit couldn’t have her messing with his head like this when he needed to be working.

“Yes?”

Talia rolled her eyes at him and clarified. “What do you think of our budget?” She motioned to look at the sheet in front of him. He hadn’t even noticed anyone give it to him.

Tom looked over the numbers. The company was up almost $2 million from the last year, and their spending was down exponentially. Her plan looked conservative, much to his delight; most of the spending money went to paying salaries, security, and office supplies instead of more frivolous expenses. She definitely knew what she was doing, and he was so grateful. 

“I think it’s quite good. Well done.” Talia nodded in thanks.

“Will, you wanted to talk about our security, right?”

“Yes. Thank you for reminding me.” He reached into his portfolio and passed around a small handbook on the new system. “It's been hard trying to find something that would work well enough for our purposes, but I think this is the one.”

As the meeting continued, Tom wondered why he was letting himself slip up so much. How could this one woman steal his focus away from work like this? He loved his job. It gave him a purpose. But there was just  _ something _ about her that made Tom’s mind run free with fantasy. Why did he want her so badly? He already had everything he could ever desire. 

Somehow he still found himself plotting to woo her. The man who wanted for nothing finally found his new venture. He had to have her.

As Tom stood to leave the room after the meeting adjourned, Talia handed him a golden envelope from the new VIP lounge downtown. He ripped the seal and read the invite. It was for the grand opening on Friday.

Would (y/n) attend? Would he get a second chance at asking for her number? God, he hoped so. 

“Are you going?” she asked with a grin. His eyebrow quirked up in surprise. Tom snorted.

“Why do you sound so excited?”

“Because I got one too,” she sing-songed and slipped hers from her clipboard. “We can carpool.”

Tom smiled and nodded as she waved it in his face. “I can't believe you’re only friendly with me for my car.” He snatched the envelope from her.

She shrugged, holding her hand out for him to give it back. “I think I look quite good stepping out of a Jaguar.”

He laughed aloud and held the door open for her. At least now he knew what to get her as a thank you.


	3. Chapter 3

Tom entered the small lounge with Talia at his side. They’d driven over in her new car, courtesy of the businessman. The look on her face when he’d rolled up to her apartment in a black Jaguar made him indescribably happy. He loved taking care of his employees like this. Especially Talia. She worked hard and made sure to do everything she could for him, most of the time without being asked. Not to mention, she was the only one he trusted with personal information. The least he could do was take care of her.

The two parted with a quick _see you on Monday_. As she made her way over to her friends, Talia turned back to thank Tom for the car. He nodded and waved her off with a smile.

He’d dressed in a new Armani suit—bought especially for this occasion to impress his Cinderella. He scanned over everyone, hoping that she would be there. It was only an inkling of a hope, but it was something to hold on to.

His gaze fell to a lone woman sitting in a tall, circular booth at the back of the room. _Found you,_ he thought and flashed a handsome grin as she met his eyes. She smiled back and watched him cross the room to her.

“Hello again, little dove,” he greeted.

“Hello again, indeed, Thomas.” He offered her his hand, and she took it, standing to greet him properly. He brought her knuckles to his lips and pressed a sweet kiss to them.

“I never would have expected to see you at one of these events,” he lied. Okay, it wasn't a _complete_ lie, but he couldn't seem too desperate. He glanced down as she tugged at the hem of her dress awkwardly. _Poor thing_ , he thought.

“Yeah, well, I’d rather be at home, if we’re being honest.”

“You do look a tad uncomfortable in that short dress, darling.” He motioned for her to sit back down.

“Trust me, if I could trade this stupid get up and my wine for some pajamas and French toast, I would in a heartbeat.” Tom grinned at that.

“Oh, that sounds like heaven right now. You look divine, though, if I may say so.” He couldn't deny how delectable her breasts looked in the tight little number. Part of him wanted to rip it off her and take her right there in the booth, but another part wanted to take her back to his hotel and let her borrow his old sweats while they curled up to a movie. How did she affect him in so many ways?

“That’s one good thing to come out of wearing this.” She blushed and turned away. God, he'd never get enough of that little tinge of pink.

“I can't believe my luck. I've been thinking of you all week. It was so stupid of me not to just give you my number.”

“You've been thinking of me? That’s sweet,” she cooed, reaching into her little clutch purse. Tom watched as she pulled out a business card and slid it toward him on the table. “Because I haven't seemed to be able to keep you off my mind either.”

He grinned brightly when he realized it was the card from his coat. “You found it.”

“I couldn't help myself,” she admitted with a shy smile. “You were such a prince on Sunday night that I just didn't want to even chance giving you up.”

“A prince?” That was an amusing thought. “Little dove, you flatter me.”

“I mean, you have to admit—you're very princely.”

“Am I? I’ll take it.”

“Good. Now let's dance.”

 

* * *

 

They’d been texting nonstop since the club. Little _how are yous_ and _I hope your day is going wells_ throughout the week. Each message from her made Tom giggle like a schoolboy until he finally plucked up the courage to type out a text and ask her on a proper date. His palms sweated and his lips turned to a pout as his thumb hovered over the _send_ button. _C’mon, you asshole,_ he scolded himself. _You’ve got nothing to lose. She likes you. If she didn’t, she would’ve stopped talking to you by now._

A knock on his office door pulled him away from his internal dilemma. Will stood in the frame with a file in his hands.

“Yes, what is it?” He hadn’t meant to sound so aggravated, but he was already wound up over his potential date.

“I have the rest of the security manual for the safe houses.” Tom relaxed and waved Will into the room. “I went and installed the keypad in the hide-out behind the bookshelf in both studies.” He set the folder down on the desk. “The information on how to use it is all there.”

Tom opened the manila file and flipped through the pages. A blue sticky note caught his attention at the back. _05111605?_

“This the code? ”

“Yeah. Guy Fawkes Day. ‘Remember, remember the fifth of November.’” That made Tom smirk.

“You know about that?”

Will shrugged. “Lived in England for a year abroad.”

“Right, right. From Syracuse?” The other man nodded. “Had a mate who studied there. Beautiful university.” Tom reminisced on the week he'd spent at the school, getting absolutely plastered and flirting with any woman he could find. He hadn’t spoken to any of them after that—there was nothing between them. Though, he still had a jumper that somehow made it into his luggage. Probably from the night he went too far and vomited all over himself.

“Yeah. It was a good four years…” Like clockwork, Will changed the subject and took his leave before the conversation got too personal. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

Tom’s phone _dinged_ with a text from (y/n).

_You’ve been typing for a while there… everything okay?_

Fuck. Now he had to send it. He didn’t want to scare her away by seeming cryptic. _DO IT, you fucker!_

Send.

He drummed his fingers against the desk as he watched the screen like a hawk and waited for a reply.

A minute.

Nothing.

Two minutes.

Nothing.

Three minutes.

Nothing.

Surely, he’d go mad if he had to wait like this. Tom jumped out of his chair and started bouncing on the balls of his feet. He grabbed a book from his bookshelf and ran his thumb along the page edges—toyed with his trinkets—checked for dust—anything to distract him. He paced around the office, and then decided to visit Talia’s office for a chat.

“Why are you so… bouncy today?”

Tom stilled. “Dunno, just anxious.” He stared out the window, trying to count the buildings to occupy himself.

"Is something the matter?"

"No."

"Have I done something?"

Tom's eyebrows knitted. "Of course not."

"So, then what?" She crossed her arms over her chest. "I've never seen you like this."

"I'm trying to make plans with someone and they're not being quick enough about it."

Talia grinned at him after a minute. “You like her.”

“Who? I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re on about.” He turned back to her.

“The girl from the club. I saw you together. She was totally into you.”

Tom hesitated. “You think?” Talia’s smile grew wider.

“I knew it! You _do_ like her.”

“Christ, keep your voice down. Can’t have the boys out there knowing about my personal life.”

“Sorry,” she laughed. “This is exciting! When was the last time you had a girlfriend?”

“Oh god, I don’t know. Sometime during uni?”

Something occurred to her. “Remember last week when I caught you daydreaming?” _Fuck, how’d she know?_ “Were you thinking about her?”

There was a beat between them before he answered. He couldn’t hide anything from her anyway. She reminded him of his sisters.

“Yes.”

Talia squealed in excitement. “Have you asked her out?! Tom, please tell me you asked her out. She was so cute!”

He sighed, “I just did. Haven’t gotten a reply.”

“So you’re here as a distraction? Not because you want to chat,” she accused knowingly.

“I’m going mad.”

“You just have a crush. It’s always like this.” She patted his shoulder reassuringly. “I bet if you go back to your office right now, she’ll have replied.”

Tom quirked an eyebrow up at that. “Yeah?”

Talia nodded. He smiled and thanked her for being so reassuring and practically sprinted back to his office to check his phone.

Nothing.

Tom slid down into his chair in defeat. Why was he acting like this? He ran a multi-million-dollar company; he shouldn’t be this hung up over a g—

_Ding!_

If anyone had been in the room, they probably wouldn’t have even seen him move, that’s how quickly his arm shot out to grab the phone.

_Love to. Saturday?_

His smile grew exponentially.

_It’s a date, little dove. Can’t wait. -TH_


	4. Chapter 4

Work had finally calmed down for Tom, and just in time, too.

He sat in a comfy chair in the corner of his favorite cafe—the one he invited (y/n) to. So far, his morning had been enjoyable, even though he was a bundle of nerves. This was his first real date with her. In fact, it was his first real date in years.

Tom fiddled with the collar of his sweater. He was half an hour early, but it felt like time was simultaneously speeding and dragging by. _Might as well get the rest of my work done_ , he thought as he reached into his bag for his laptop.

After sending a few emails to Talia and Will about the upcoming trade-off, the cafe eventually melted away, and he was able to calm down. He chuckled to himself when Talia’s reply came in. It was all business until the end; _I’m pretty sure I can feel your nervous energy through the internet. Just relax. She likes you!_

Tom's fingers danced along the keyboard with his response: _You really think she likes me that much? I can't wait to see her. I’m so afraid I'll look like a bumbling fool._

Another email from Talia; _Sweet talk her. You’re good at that. If it really goes south (it won't, you buffoon), you can call me._

He sighed. _Thank you._

“Come here often?” (Y/n)’s warm voice made his lips twitch up into a bashful smile.

“I didn’t even notice you come in. As a matter of fact, I—” When he looked up, she had him gobsmacked; she sat casually across from him, wrapped up in an almost-too-big cardigan and a soft, wool scarf, with dark leggings that hid inside some flat ankle boots. She looked so different from their other meetings, but still just as stunning. The sudden urge to pull her into his lap and hold her close under a big blanket until they both dozed off washed over him. He’d never seen someone so absolutely huggable. “—do… You look beautiful.”

“Oh, stop.” She blushed.

“No, I mean it. You look lovely.” He grinned. “Not that you don’t look lovely when you’re all dolled up. This is just a nice change.” _God, you idiot._ _Quit while you're ahead!_

“So, what's good here?” she asked with a shy smile, thankfully changing the subject. Tom breathed in slowly to center himself.

“What are you in the mood for? I normally get a coffee and muffin.”

“I’ll just have to decide at the counter.” The two stood, and he took her by the hand to lead her to the barista. Tom ordered his usual, and she ordered a caramel iced coffee with a slice of salted caramel cheesecake. _Caramel, huh?_ He made a mental note of that as he pulled out his wallet.

“Oh, no, Tom, please.” She reached for his hand again to stop him, and he felt his ears heat up at such gentle contact. “I can get it.”

“It's our first date, of course I'm going to pay for you,” he politely, yet firmly, obliged. “What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn't?”

“Maybe a modern one?” She laughed, and it was such a pretty, lighthearted laugh. It warmed Tom’s chest. “And you don't think the gala was our first date?”

“I don't see how it could be—I didn't get to ask you out.” _Finally_ , he was getting his charisma back.

“Oh, so that's what constitutes as a date for you? You have to ask me out.”

“Well, I wouldn't object to _you_ asking _me_ out,” he joked back. She giggled and knocked his side lightly with her elbow. “So, what have you been up to on this lovely Saturday?” (Y/n) tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear as she answered.

“This morning I woke up to my neighbor blasting some music—I'm pretty sure he woke the whole building.” The barista set their drinks and pastries on the counter, and they took them back to their corner. Tom loved the way (y/n) curled up in the chair and made herself at home. “Then I did some laundry. Read the news. Watched _13 Going On 30_. Usual single-girl stuff.”

“That sounds like a nice morning.” He mused and stirred some sugar cubes and cream into his coffee.

“What about you?”

“I woke up early and went for a run—”

“On a Saturday? Ugh, that's too much.”

He laughed at her sincerity. “Well darling, I quite enjoy waking up to run. I'm assuming you don't?” He didn't blame her. Tom definitely loved running, but he knew most people didn't.

“No thank you. I'll run when I'm good and ready after noon.”

They smiled sweetly at each other.

“Now, where was I before you so rudely interrupted,” he joked. “Ah, I remember. After my run, I showered, made a full English breakfast, and also read the news. Then I got ready for a coffee date with a beautiful girl.”

She blushed the way she always did. “Stop; you're too kind.”

The pair sat in the cafe for two hours, just talking and enjoying the other’s company. (Y/n) shared her cheesecake with Tom, going as far as feeding him a bite from her fork. Just for kicks, he let out a little moan at the taste, and was amused when her pupils dilated.

This was the best possible way their date could have gone. The only way it could’ve been better is if they'd shared a kiss, but Tom didn't think it was time. He didn’t want to scare her away by being too forward. After all, a woman like her only came around once in a lifetime. He had to cherish her.


	5. Chapter 5

“Oh—heh—sorry,” Talia mumbled and pushed past Will. Tom quirked his brow up at the unusually awkward encounter as he and Will watched her leave the office.

“That was odd,” Tom mentioned.

“Yeah,” was all the other man had to add. “Here’s the list of guards for your meeting tonight. And the backup locations.” Tom leafed through the file.

“You coming as well?”

“Of course.”

“Excellent. The supplier agreed to the time, yes?”

“Yeah. All your terms. Should go pretty smoothly for both parties.”

“Good. This’ll be a simple trade-off then. Nothing like the last time.”

It seemed that every time he brought Talia with him, there was trouble from the other party, and of course it was never her fault. The most recent encounter left him holding a gun to the supplier’s head—it had actually been the supplier’s gun—as hollow apologies fell from his mouth. As much as Tom hated getting his hands dirty, he’d shot the guy anyway. _Sexist pig_ , he thought. Nobody was to lay a hand on her like that. It was a hard decision to leave her out of the deals—she was so integral to his operation—but it was for the best. He didn’t need anything happening to her.

“Oh, and Talia’s reservations at the spa tonight? They’re still good?”

“I’ll call and check, sir.”

“Thank you, Will.”

After he left, Tom sighed and leaned back in his chair. He hoped she was alright. She seemed off today, and he wasn’t sure why. Was it because of what happened last time? Because he took her off the trade? Or was it something else? Maybe he should check on her.

He walked down the hall to her office, but when he got there, he noticed Will’s silhouette just inside the frosted-glass door. He didn’t want to interrupt what seemed to be a pleasant exchange. It wasn’t too outrageous for them to be friendly around each other, but it was definitely odd to hear them laughing like this. Come to think of it, he’d _never_ heard Will laugh like this. Tom’s interest was piqued, so he stood just outside her office, listening to the conversation.

“Are you coming with me?” Talia asked.

“Do you really think _I’d_ go to a spa?” he jested.

“Well, I mean… I’ll be there.” Tom heard some shuffling. “I think it’d be fun. Ever thought about couples… _massages_?”

Will jerked back against the door, causing Tom to jolt back, too. _What the hell just happened?_

“Tal… We’re at work.” _Oh._

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I… can’t go with you. Boss has me going with him tonight.”

“That why he’s sending me to the spa then? Because of what happened last time?”

“Of course no— _oh_ … ”

“Tell me the truth or the next time I won’t squeeze so gently.”

Tom sped back to his office before he heard any more. That was enough, and it explained a _lot_. Talia had been off because she was embarrassed in front of him. Will had been a bit more sociable toward her because they were together. Were they together? Maybe just casually. Whatever the case was, he didn’t need to pry. What they did was their business, so long as it didn’t interfere with his.

He wasn’t sure how he felt, but it was something between shocked and upset, mostly because he should’ve seen this coming. But honestly, how could he have? Will was like talking to a brick wall. And Talia just liked to keep certain things to herself in the office, which Tom respected. Just because they were as close as siblings didn’t mean they had to share _everything_.

The businessman sighed and set himself on planning the night’s operation. If anything could erase that minute from his mind, it was diving headfirst into work.

 

* * *

 

“Are you ready?” Will asked over the headset.

“Yeah. Everyone else?”

“In position.”

Tom fixed his tie and took a deep breath before opening his car door. He sauntered over to the other vehicle waiting next to the gate. They’d agreed to meet outside an abandoned warehouse, miles from Tom’s offices. He had it on good authority that this particular trade-off would go smoothly, thank god. He didn’t need a repeat of last time, especially since he’d made the decision to ask (y/n) on another date soon. He didn't know when, but it still wouldn’t be beneficial if he had to spend all that time cleaning up messes again—he would have less time with his girlfriend.

 _Whoa, girlfriend?_ Were they even at that stage yet? They’d only been on one real date. But somehow Tom felt they were closer than one would let on. Well, _he_ felt that way, at least. Was he speeding along too quickly? God, he felt like such a teenager thinking about this stuff.

“We’ve got your back, sir.” Will’s voice helped center him again. _Focus, Hiddleston._

The side door on the van before him slid open to reveal his liaison. She stepped out and straightened her dress.

“Mr. Hiddleston, yes?”

He gave a warm smile in greeting. “The very same. And you must be Ms. Alzerana.”

“Great to finally meet you, sir. Ready to see your purchase?”

“Of course.” This was already going better than he'd hoped. Probably because he didn't have to deal with any men that would see him as a threat to their masculinity. They always tried to overcompensate and show him up. Usually if he'd been dealing with a man, he'd have to stand through 10 minutes of snarky “wit” before they got down to business, but Ms. Alzerana was as professional as Tom, and it was a nice change.

“Now, all of them are unloaded for safety purposes, but here’s one of the handguns, in case you want to look at it up close and personal.” He took it in his leather-gloved hand and examined it closely.

“Heavier than I expected, but it’s definitely a good weight. Where are the rest?”

“In trucks on the other side. Would you like to go inspect them?”

A delighted smile spread across his cheeks. “That's the first time I've been asked that at a meeting.”

“Well, I like to make sure my customers have a good experience. And it covers my ass.” Tom chuckled at that. “But we’ll just stick with the good customer experience.”

“Lead the way.”

The pair made their way to the back of the warehouse, and Tom climbed into the trailer of one of the trucks. He examined the crates with deep scrutiny, but ultimately found nothing wrong. This one was accounted for.

“I hope everything was to your liking, Mr. Hiddleston. It was truly a pleasure.”

_Wait, what?_

“Eheh, um…" He hopped down gracefully. "I'd like to check the other trucks.”

There was a beat between them.

“I can assure you they’re exactly as this one is.”

Oh, _no_. Not gonna fly.

“I’d like. To see. The other trucks,” he repeated slowly.

“Mr. Hiddleston, I—”

“Do you think I’m stupid? I’ve been doing this for a long time.” He _really_ thought this one would be different. “Open the others.” When she didn't move, he knew for sure she'd been bluffing before. He let out a deep and terrifying chuckle accompanied by a chilling grin as he pulled out the gun he’d brought for safety. The woman visibly shrank into herself. “Get me the rest of my product in 15 minutes or I’ll fucking kill you.”

He wasn't sure if he’d actually follow through or not. Fear was an intense motivator. He didn't have to follow through; she got the point. But it would probably fuck up his image if word got out that he didn't. Still, he wasn't sure.

Will spoke through the earpiece. “Everything alright, boss?”

The woman hesitated for a moment before scrambling to pull out her phone. Tom took his out as well to type a reply to Will, but before he could, a call came through.

It was (y/n). His heart skipped a little beat, but he managed to keep a cool façade. He knew it would be unprofessional to answer, but fuck that. This transaction was far from professional anymore.

“Hello, little dove,” he answered cooly, keeping his gun trained on present company.

 _“Hi, Thomas.”_ He could hear her smile through the phone as she said it. _“I hope I didn't catch you at a bad time.”_

“No, now’s a great time. What's on your mind?” The other woman looked at him incredulously, but he just wiggled his gun in her face with an insistent look, and she turned away to fix the sale.

 _“I just… it's gonna sound so dumb,”_ she laughed nervously.

“Nothing you say could ever sound dumb.”

_“I just missed your voice. Texting is nice, but it doesn't make up for the real thing, you know?”_

Why not ask her out now? Girls love spontaneity, right?

“Dinner tonight? We could catch up.”

_“Mm… Only if it’s Italian.”_

“Consider it done. An hour enough time?”

_“For you? Of course.”_

That made him smile.

“It’s a date, little dove. Shall I pick you up?”

_“No, it’s alright, I’ll meet you! Address?”_

“I’ll text it to you.”

 _“Okay! I…”_ She paused as if she were going to say something else, but decided against it. _“I’ll see you at seven.”_

“Can’t wait.” After their call ended, he quickly looked up the restaurant and sent her the details.

Will’s voice sounded again. “Mr. Hiddleston…” _Oh! Right._ Tom typed out a quick _all fine_ before looking back up at the woman.

“The rest of the order should be here soon.”

His eyes narrowed. “How _soon_ is soon?”

“The drivers said about… twenty minutes…”

“I told you fifteen.”

“Yes, sir, I know, but—”

Tom fired his gun at the ground next to her and she jumped almost two feet back.

“If I didn't need you to sign off on the trucks, that one would've been in your brain,” he growled. “You’re lucky.”

He didn't really need her to sign for the guns. But something stopped him from just getting rid of her. The only response she gave was a slight nod as tears rushed down her cheeks. He sort of felt… bad for her. _What?_ _Why?_ Maybe he was going soft. He inwardly laughed. This had (y/n)’s name written all over it, but he couldn't bring himself to mind.


	6. Chapter 6

Tom met (y/n) promptly at seven. He kissed her cheek and almost didn’t hear her squeal at the contact.

“Sorry I’m late. I’ve been tied up at work all day.”

“What? No, you’re fine. I promise. On-time is good,” she reassured. He took her hand in his and had the hostess seat them at his usual table. “You have a _usual_? So fancy, Mr. Businessman.”

Tom chuckled. “What can I say? I love a great bolognese.” He pulled out her chair, like the true gentleman that he was, and then sat across from her.

There was no way he’d ever be able to stop admiring her beauty. Tonight she wore a black tea-length dress with gold embellishments, complete with ballet flats and the dove earrings. She looked so simple, yet so elegant at the same time. He couldn’t get enough of her.

As they looked over the menus—which he didn’t even need—he glanced up and noticed she was biting her lip with flushed cheeks. He could tell she was avoiding eye contact with him, and if he hadn’t known any better, he’d think she would have been ill. But he _had_ known better.

Plus the lip bite really gave it away.

“Everything alright?” he asked knowingly.

Her eyes flickered up in an instant, and she tried to feign a grin. “Of course, sorry.” She breathed out an airy chuckle. “I was just thinking about work.”

“Any way I can make you forget about it?”

“Just keep me in the present.” She took his hand in hers over the table. The gentle touch accompanied by the sight of his flustered date ignited something primal within him, but he knew he had to hold back. He _could not_ rush this. True, they’d met over three months ago, but he didn’t want to scare her off by being too forward. He truly had no clue how to handle an adult relationship—and he felt silly admitting that to himself—but it was true. Clearly he’d been doing _something_ right, though; it seemed to be going well.

“So have you been to any galas recently?”

“Unfortunately, no. Or maybe it is fortunate. Either way, no,” she giggled.

“Well, that seems fortunate for _me_ , at least,” he joked. “That way nobody will steal you away from me.” _Did I really just say that?_

“I can say with pretty high certainty that nobody could steal me away from you, Thomas.”

“That’s sweet of you, little dove.” The pair smiled and sat for a beat.

“Tell me more about yourself,” she said, leaning toward him.

“What would you like to know?” he replied with a smirk.

“Hobbies?”

“Well, I absolutely love running, but you already knew that. I do enjoy running in the park particularly. Something about being in nature feels freeing.”

“Do you ever pretend you’re running from something?”

“Like what?”

“I dunno. Animals… spies… _ghosts_ …” Tom laughed out loud at that last one.

“Definitely the ghosts.”

Their waiter politely interrupted to take their order. Tom ordered his favorite bolognese, and (y/n) chose a creamy ravioli. The pair conversed all through their dinner. Tom joked around the whole time so he could revel in her laugh. They split a chocolate mousse for dessert, and then Tom invited her back to his apartment to watch some movies over more wine. In truth, it was because he never wanted this date to end.

He let her have free reign over his film collection while he got some glasses and a bottle of rosé from his kitchen.

“I’m seeing a trend here,” (y/n) mentioned. Tom’s brow quirked up as he poured some wine for them. “The trend is that there is no trend. You have such an eclectic collection.”

“I’ve always been interested in film.” He returned to the living room with the bottle under his arm to find (y/n) surrounded by stacks of DVDs.

“It’s so hard to choose.”

“Let’s pick together, then.” He set everything down on the coffee table and knelt behind her. They spread out all the movies on the carpet in front of them. “Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Just close them. Are they closed?”

“…Yes.”

“Good. Now—”

“Are _yours_ closed?” she interrupted.

“Yes, little dove.” He leaned forward and followed the length of her arm with his fingertips until he found her hand. He cradled her wrist in his fingers. “Now let’s just choose the first one our hands land on,” he whispered in her ear. Tom felt her shudder at his voice, and it stirred something within him like at the restaurant, but he forced himself to ignore it.

“You promise your eyes are closed?” she asked. “You’re not rigging this?”

“I promise.”

He carefully guided their hands to a random spot on the floor.

“Bridget Jones’ Diary,” (y/n) announced. Tom’s eyes fluttered open.

“Perfect.”

“Are you sure?” She turned the box in her hands almost anxiously.

“Of course. Unless you don’t want to watch this one.”

“No, I do! I just didn’t think _you’d_ want to.”

“That’s quite an assumption, darling.”

“Well, I mean—I don’t want to make you watch a romcom if you’d rather watch something with more action.”

Tom turned to face her. “I love this movie. Even if I didn’t, I’d still watch it with you. That’s what we’re here for.” (Y/n) smiled and nodded in agreement.

He set up the movie and then plopped down on the couch next to her. They clinked glasses and sipped on their wine. As the movie went on, he could feel her slowly sinking into his side, and eventually, they shifted so Tom lay back on the sofa with (y/n) on his chest. The way he could see her rise and fall with his breathing made him smile. She fit perfectly together with him. _This is where she’s supposed to be,_ he thought.


	7. Chapter 7

“Did you shoot her, at least? Because I could’ve done it for you,” Talia mumbled, still pissed that Tom didn’t let her join him.

He sighed. “No, but I should've.”

“Why didn't you?” Will interrupted.

Tom shifted his weight onto his other foot. Clearly, he didn't want to say that it was because of (y/n). Will had no right—or interest, honestly—to know about her.

“Just decided to keep it clean this time?” he wavered. Talia looked unconvinced. “Besides, now if we ever find ourselves in business with her again, she’ll know not to fuck around.”

“That's true,” she noted with an _I-know-it's-because-of-your-girlfriend_ glint in her eye.

“At least we got the weapons. I can't wait to test them out,” Will almost beamed. Tom clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“They're all in the storage locker on the 15th floor, mate. Have a go.”

The marksman nodded and made his way out of Talia’s office, but not without a subtle—or at least Will _thought_ he was being subtle—brush of his fingertips over her wrist that Tom noticed clear as day. A smile crossed Talia’s lips as she stared down at the carpet.

“A sweet gesture,” Tom mused mischievously. Her head shot up as she realized he was still in her office.

“I've no clue what you're on about.”

“Come on, Tal.” He smirked at her. “He wasn't subtle.”

“How was your date?” She quickly steered the conversation. Tom resigned to amuse her instead of prying.

“Absolutely wonderful. (Y/n) is just… she’s so incredible.” He grinned at the memory of her asleep on his chest. “I never wanted to let her go.”

“How long has it been since you've started dating?”

“Well… we met three months ago at that gala. And then I took her out a few weeks after that.”

“Is it official? Does big, bad businessman Tom Hiddleston have a girlfriend?” she teased.

“I—” he began, but hesitated.

Were they official? They had been dating for a while, but they hadn't said anything about labels. Surely it was time. Tom was ready. Was she?

For god's sake, the woman slept on top of him!

“I’m going to ask her. I’m picking her up from an event on Friday. I’ll ask her then.”

“You better, or I swear to god—”

“Ah, ah! Threatening doesn't become you, Tal.”

“Suck a dick, Tom,” she laughed. “I’m _plenty_ threatening, and I look good doing it.”

“There’s that smile! I knew you couldn’t stay mad at me.”

“You better put me on the next job, or my threats won't be so empty.”

“ _Fine_.”

 

* * *

 

Tom’s fingers drummed against the steering wheel as he sat back in his parked car. (Y/n) was inside the venue, probably talking up her father to some other rich men while sipping on champagne. He missed her deeply—even though it had only been a few days since they'd had dinner—and the thought of her getting dolled up for this benefit gala made him jealous of all the attendants who'd had her attention all night.

He couldn't wait to see her. Tom unlocked his phone and pulled up their messages with the photo she’d sent him earlier. Her dress was gorgeous—covered in garnet sequins from breast to ankle with a tasteful leg slit up her right side. He smiled to himself as a message came through.

_I’m ready, Prince Charming._

_Outside. -TH_

_You're not coming in? I wanted to show you off :(_

Tom glanced down at his sweatpants.

_I’m afraid I’m not quite dressed for it. But your chariot awaits nonetheless. -TH_

_I’m on my way out. Speaking of dressing for the occasion… I forgot a change of clothes. Didn't quite fit in my clutch._

_I think I may have some clothes to lend. -TH_

Tom jumped as (y/n) pulled the passenger door open but smiled when he saw her slump into the car.

“My hero,” she sighed.

“Tired?”

“Exhausted.”

He took her hand in his and raised it to his lips.

“Good night?”

“Not in the slightest.” She paused as as if to assess whether she should say the next thing. “There was a donor who kept touching me whenever we passed by.” She anxiously tugged the cut of her dress to cover her thigh.

Tom went rigid. “Do you know his name?”

She shook her head, reaching down to take off her heels and rub the soles of her feet.

“He worked for some weapons company. I'm not sure. He sounded Italian.”

 _Malone,_ Tom thought. _The bastard_.

He knew Vince Malone. He’d only bought from him once, but it was one of the worst purchasing experiences of his career. There were so many hoops Tom had to jump through just to get one shipment in, including a setup that almost ended up killing him. And now that piece of shit was looking at his girl.

Tom’s hands clenched on the steering wheel, but he relaxed as soon as he felt (y/n)’s hand roaming from his shoulder to his hand again.

“Let's get you home, my darling.”

He pulled away from the curb and thought of how secure he felt with someone familiar in his car—no uncomfortable silences or small talk. Just the two of them, taking up silent space in the Jag.

After they'd returned to his in-town flat, Tom decided to focus on helping his girl unwind, which meant he wouldn't get to cook for her. But he didn't really mind. There would be other opportunities.

“Little dove, you are exquisite,” Tom whispered. She sat there next to him on the sofa, practically glowing in his old, grey v-neck and striped boxers.

“You're the exquisite one.” Their cocoa sat on the coffee table, cold and forgotten. He pulled her legs up over his lap.

“The gown on the floor of my bedroom says otherwise.” He smirked, caressing the skin behind her ear with the pads of his finger.

“Oh, that old thing? Costed much less than your rent does, I’m sure,” she chuckled and ran her knuckles across Tom’s collarbones in return. “Thanks for the clothes, by the way.”

“Of course. Don’t think I’d just let you run around here naked, do you?” She'd look absolutely divine.

“I bet you’d like that.” (Y/n)’s eyes fell to his lips, and he took the hint.

“I bet I would…” Tom whispered, almost against her sweet mouth.

Then the doorbell rang. Tom rolled his eyes and moved to get up, but (y/n) gave his thigh a gentle squeeze to stop him. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I’ll get it.” She hopped off of him and almost tripped over the coffee table on her way to the door, still just as graceful as ever.

She turned back to Tom after greeting the delivery woman. “Do you have cash for tip?”

“I put it on the card, little dove,” he called from the sofa and watched her send away the delivery woman.

“Hope you're hungry!” she singsonged on the way back to him.

“Absolutely famished,” he chuckled, pulling her down to his lap again by her hips.

“I haven't had curry in a while.”

“I think the last time I had it was the night after we first met. It smells so good.” In fact, it smelled good enough to send his mind reeling back to that fateful evening. The way she looked in front of that canvas—her perfume—the call to his realtor to find an apartment in the city because he'd be staying longer than anticipated… it all came rushing back to him like waves on the ocean.

“You smell even better, mister.”

“Mm.” _Stay in the present, Hiddleston. You_ have _her. She’s yours._ “Keep talking like that. I love a good ego boost.” He smirked devilishly at her and sent her into a fit of giggles.

The pair slid to the floor and practically fed each other. Tom almost moaned at the taste of their curries together.

“Tell me more about this ball,” he muttered through some chicken.

She sighed. “Well. It started with this morning. Dad made me run all these ridiculous office errands, and of course, I was wearing my gala heels to break them in. By the time I had to get ready, I wanted to chop my feet off. The blisters were unbearable.” Tom frowned, shifting his gaze to her feet. Taking one in his hands, he gently kneaded the bottom. “Oh my god, Tom… that feels amazing.”

“Good. Continue about your day.”

“Umm… oh. So, I get to the ball, looking beautiful, but just wanting to be here with you. Reporters swarm me, asking for information about my dad and his—oh my god, right there—his business. Accounting this, accounting that.”

“I thought he was a stockbroker?” Tom clarified.

“He is. He is. There’s just a lot of accounting shit going on that got leaked, somehow. It’s so late, I can’t seem to keep my head on straight.”

“Why don’t you finish your dinner? Might make you feel better.” He let go of her foot and handed her the take away box.

“Thanks. Tell me about your day.”

Tom loved the domesticity of this. His beautiful girlfriend next to him, recounting their days to each other. It was absolutely refreshing.

“Some of my clients have been giving me trouble with shipments. Nothing I can’t solve, thanks to my assistants. The office has been a wreck trying to get our orders back to normal. It’s so nice to come home to a clean flat. Especially if you’re joining me.” (Y/n) giggled and nudged him with her elbow as if to say _stop it, you_. “I’m serious. I bet if you came to the office, it would be instantly more bearable.”

“Well, if you _insist_.”

“Good. Come by around noon, and we’ll have lunch.”

He was so excited. He could already picture her standing in his office looking out the window and watching the people walk by below. He would tiptoe up behind her and wrap his arms around her, pressing soft kisses to her neck and jaw. How he _longed_ to kiss her soft lips, but things just kept getting in the way. Maybe tomorrow would be the day.

(Y/n) coughed, pulling him from his daydream. “This is really spicy.” Tom soothed her back with his hand.

“You're slowing down. Are you finished? Or is it _too_ spicy for you?”

“I'm not that big of a wimp…”

“Do you want the rest of mine? I'll trade.”

“Would you?” She asked, almost shy. Tom nodded and swapped containers. She looked like a little girl on Christmas morning. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“My pleasure, little dove.” The two nestled together by the couch and watched old sitcoms as Tom’s mind brewed with ideas of comfortable mundanity with this beautiful, sweet woman next to him. There was no way in hell he had the balls to ask her to make their relationship official. How would he go about it? Surely anything that came out of his mouth would make him look like a fool.

“Be mine,” he whispered without thinking. _Fuck_.

(Y/n) turned to him, puzzled amusement in her eyes. “I am.”

He smiled with relief and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone. 
> 
> I'm really sorry that this has taken me literal months to update. I lost my passion for this chapter while I was halfway through it. It's been tough trying to write this whole story, actually, because I've already written it, and this is just a retelling from a different perspective. I promise I'm going to finish it, I just don't know how long it'll take me. I hope you understand.
> 
> Thank you for reading. Your kudos and comments mean so much to me. They actually got me to finally finish this chapter. So thanks again. <3


	8. Chapter 8

Tom woke the next morning with a start. Somehow, he knew he was late for work, even in his sleep.

“G-od… fffuck…” he grumbled, throwing the blankets off himself and stumbling out of bed to the bathroom to get ready. It wouldn’t have mattered any other day, but today he had a meeting with a supplier at ten-thirty and then lunch with (y/n) at noon.

(Y/n)...

When had she left? They fell asleep together in his bed after a wine-induced giggle fit. Tom frowned at himself in the mirror. He didn’t think she had anywhere to be today. _Check your phone, idiot,_ he scolded himself.

Lo and behold—a text.

 

_Had to run home to get ready for our lunch date. Sorry I couldn’t be there to see your sleepy morning smile, but I started some coffee for you. Until noon._

_P.S. I stole your red sweater._

 

God, she was fucking incredible.

 

_Can’t wait. Thanks for the coffee. Keep the jumper. xx TH_

 

* * *

 

“He changed the rendezvous point?” Tom couldn’t help but raise his voice after such annoying news from Will.

“Yeah, some shipyard on the West Bank. About two hours from here.”

“Two hours?!”

Talia jumped back in surprise at the outburst. “Mr. Hiddleston?”

“Sorry.” He rubbed his temples in frustration. “Sorry. I have a lunch meeting at noon. I’d prefer not to cancel it.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Will began, “I don’t think canceling the trade is the smartest decision.”

Tom sighed. He knew he was right. This was one of the most important transactions of the year. He couldn’t miss it, even if it was the bastard’s fault for making it harder to meet up.

“Be ready in ten minutes.”

Will nodded and left the office. Talia threw a sympathetic glance in Tom’s direction before following suit. At least she was coming with them this time. It’d provide him with some semblance of sanity to have her there when he met the vendor.

Tom twirled his phone in his right hand as he contemplated how he’d break the news to (y/n). He’d been so god damned excited to bring her into the office for lunch, and now he had to cancel because some stupid French prick was fucking up his plans.

He dialed her number and turned to look out his expansive window to the city below.

_“Thomas,”_ she answered.

“Little dove.”

_“I don’t know if I’ll ever be used to that.”_ He could hear her smile. Too bad it’d soon be a frown.

“I’ll never tire of saying it. Little dove.” She laughed at that.

_“So, why the call so soon? Didn’t like the coffee?”_

“No, of course I did. I loved it… I loved it.” He brought his hand up to his eyes and rubbed them in discomfort. “I have to cancel on lunch. That meeting I have got moved to a new location.”

There was a beat between them.

_“How far?”_

“It’s about two hours away from my office. I’m hoping it doesn’t last much longer than it was supposed to, but with this change, who knows what else is going to happen… It… it could be days.”

_“I see.”_

“I’m so sorry, (y/n).”

_“No. It’s your job. It comes first,”_ she reassured. That last part practically stabbed a knife through his chest. He wanted _her_ to come first.

“How can I make it up to you? Tell me.” Flowers? Breakfast in bed? A trip to Cannes? Check all the names off her hit list? He’d do anything.

_“Just come home safe.”_ Home. She told him to come _home_. _“As soon as possible.”_

“I promise.”

_“I l—”_ His heart skipped a beat. He thought she was going to say it… those three words he’d been dying to hear. _“I’ll miss you.”_

Not _those_ words. He almost laughed at how stupid he felt.

“I’ll miss you too, my darling. Take care.”

_“You too.”_ She hung up, and Tom threw his phone at the wall just hard enough to lodge it in the plaster.

“Fuck! FUCK!”

God, what a _nightmare_. He couldn’t believe this shit! Breaking his girlfriend’s heart all because of this god damned weapons trade.

“Sir—”

“ _What!?_ ” He whirled around to see Talia’s shocked expression, and his immediately softened. She stood in the doorway like a deer in headlights. _Don’t take it out on your best friend, you idiot!_

“I-I’m sorry, Mr. Hiddleston, I—”

“Talia, I’m _so_ sorry…” She glanced from him to his desk and then to the wall behind it. She quickly shut the door behind her and stood with her back pressed against it.

“Jesus Christ, Tom!” Talia pointed at the wall and his eyes followed the line of her arm toward the phone. “What’s the problem? Are you _okay_?”

“No.”

“Is this about your lunch? Was it with (y/n)?”

All he could do was nod as he sank down onto his sofa.

“Aw. Tom, come on. I’m sure she’ll be alright.” She sat beside him and soothed his shoulder reassuringly.

“She was so upset, Tal.” He felt tears brimming in his eyes and fought to keep them from falling. “I just want her to be happy.”

“Stop it,” she asserted. “You already make her the happiest girl in the world. You can’t let one canceled lunch get to you like this.” She stood in front of him and grasped his pale cheeks in her ebony hands. “Look at me. You’re Tom-fucking-Hiddleston. You’ve got some work to do right now. (Y/n) will be here when you’re done, and it’ll be an even sweeter return since you’ve been away. And you have a _lifetime_ of lunch dates to have.” She pulled away and he nodded.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Now get up, go pat some cold water under your eyes, and let’s go. We need those weapons, and _you_ gotta charm them out of Guillaume’s hands, so get your shit together.”

 

* * *

 

Tom’s nerves would _not_ settle. His leg bounced with abandon as the Escalade pulled up to the dock behind the rest of their caravan. Why the hell was he so anxious? He’d done this a million times.

“Oh my god, would you stop it?” Talia forced his leg still. “What’s wrong?”

“I dunno! I haven’t been able to calm down since we passed that petrol station.”

“Do you wanna pop a Xanax or something? You need to _chill out._ ”

He sighed as the car came to a stop. Will turned around to face them in the back seat.

“Sir, do you need us to do this for you?” he asked.

“No, no. I’m fine. I’ll be fine.” He couldn’t really convince himself. Something felt off about the whole thing… Moving this transaction _two hours_ away was extremely suspicious. But Tom pulled his handgun from the overhead compartment and stuffed it into the back of his trousers anyway. “Let’s go.”

Talia muttered a quick _all clear—you know what to do_ into her earpiece.

As soon as their doors opened, so did the rest of the cars’. All his men were ready to defend if necessary. Tom knew not to be so stupid as to let himself get outnumbered by Guillaume—especially in unfamiliar territory. He never came alone.

The man in question stood about forty feet away at the front of the dock. He was Tom’s height, though a bit more brawny with black hair. His grey suit had been tailored perfectly, and Tom might have felt a bit jealous had he not been so on edge. Guillaume knew how to dress, he’d give him that.

Tom cleared his throat. “Bonjour, Gui.” His accent was perfect. He loved putting on a little show of his intelligence, and it honestly made him feel slightly more at ease in doing so.

“Tom,” he answered curtly.

“Do you have what I came here for?”

“Do you take me for a fool? Of course I have it.” The Frenchman turned with a sweeping gesture toward the ship behind him. “Shall we?”

Tom followed up the stairs with Will and Talia flanking him from behind. All their other men were to stay put.

After reaching the deck, they entered the heavy metal door that the man held for them. Guillaume showed them to a storage locker with walls of unopened wooden crates. He beckoned them in and pried open the closest one with a crowbar. Tom reached inside and pulled out a huge semi-automatic rifle.

“C’est bon, non?” his companion asked with a delighted tone. The businessman just examined the gun further with a nod. “You’re a very funny man, Hiddleston,” he mentioned at Tom’s silence. “I can never truly read you.” He shrugged in response. “Why don’t we talk more, eh? Get to know each other a little better?”

“You know,” Tom began, dismissing him, “I don’t appreciate the inconvenience of changing the location so suddenly, or that you’re dragging this out with pointless conversation. I had an important meeting at noon.”

Guillaume laughed. “What? More important than _me_? She must be gorgeous.”

Tom gritted his teeth to bite back a sharp retort. He seethed at this assumption from the Frenchman, however correct it was. Even though nobody knew about (y/n), he felt as though everyone were after her simply because she was his. Paranoia didn’t suit him.

“I apologize for the last minute change, but I couldn’t do much to avoid it, you see. The usual harbor had trouble finding room for such a large ship, so this was the next best location.”

Tom hated how smooth his excuse sounded, especially with the French accent, and he hated how slick he was in trying to cover up his distaste for the Brit with forced manners and two-faced charisma.

He turned to Talia and Will to signal to check the rest, but as he was about to turn back toward Guillaume, an expression of alarm flashed on their faces, and Will yelled something incomprehensible.

Then everything went black.

 

* * *

 

“Mr. Hiddleston… Sir…? Tom?”

It felt as if the world were rocking.

Where was he? Who was calling for him?

“C’mon, Tom.”

He shifted onto his side and tried to push himself up.

“Wha-t the fuuuck?” he groaned. His stomach lurched with the movement of the ground. Were they still on the boat?

“Stay on the floor.” _Talia_.

Then a familiar metallic stench hit him. He reached back to the side of his pounding head and felt the warm, sticky blood pooled there. How wasn’t this the first thing he noticed?

“Sir, can you open your eyes?” she asked. Tom had to think about it, but soon his heavy eyelids fluttered open. It took a second for him to focus on his friend hovering over him.

“What… what the fuck… happened?” he managed.

“It was an ambush. Guillaume hit you with the crowbar. You’ve been out for a good two hours.”

“Where’s Will?”

“Probably beating the shit out of him. He thinks Guillaume’s linked to Say.”

The hairs on the back of Tom’s neck stood on end. He hadn’t heard that name in years—since Ben was the CEO.

This wasn’t good. _At all._

He tried to sit up but Talia pressed him back down.

“You need to rest.”

“I need to go beat that son-of-a-bitch with his own crowbar.” He struggled to sit up again. Talia scrambled to her feet and helped Tom to his.

“Take it easy! You shouldn’t go straight into fight-mode right now.”

“I’m going to do whatever I bloody-well please.” He started towards the door, but she pushed him back.

“You have an open wound on your _head_.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“You’re so stubborn!”

“He tried to kill me!”

“What would (y/n) say?”

That made him stop in his tracks. How had he forgotten about her? His little dove.

Well, he _did_ get aggressively bludgeoned.

But she was right, though. What _would_ (y/n) say if she saw him like this? She’d probably fuss over the blood and make him go to the hospital and wait beside his bed until he were healed—or at least stitched up. She’d climb into the bed with him and nuzzle her face into his chest, trying with all her might to make him feel better with her affection. The thought made Tom smile to himself.

But then he remembered where he was and stepped back, inhaling deeply to center himself. Talia watched carefully as he straightened his suit jacket and began to speak in his usual, calculating business tone.

“You’re going to take me wherever that bastard is, and I’m going to get in one good punch.” She tried to interrupt, but he continued. “Just one! And then we can leave.”

“But what about the guns?”

“They’re already on this ship, are they not? We’ll just send it to the mainland and have them transported to us by truck.”

“Fine,” she conceded.

“Fine?”

“Fine."

 

* * *

 

When they walked into the room holding Guillaume, Tom almost retched immediately at the sight of him. Maybe it was a mixture of the smell and his head injury, but the Frenchman’s bloodied face was enough to make him vomit up his breakfast.

Tom got a grip and swiftly pulled out the gun he’d been hiding in his trousers. He stalked up to the chair his adversary was tied to like a panther ready to pounce on its prey. He’d been in need of some unadulterated violence—not that he was a particularly violent man or that he sought it out. Tom just liked to serve justice where it was due.

An eye for an eye.

A glock to the cheek for a crowbar to the head.

“Who do you work for?” he questioned—his tone eerily collected.

No response.

Tom chuckled and nodded in understanding before cocking his gun and shooting the other man in the foot. His yell echoed throughout the ship.

“Next one’s in your shoulder… Tell me who you work for.”

Silence.

The click of the hammer.

“ _MADEMOISELLE SAY!”_

“Now, was that so hard?” Tom grinned before smacking him across the face with the gun. “You. Disgust. Me.” He raised the pistol again.

“Wait! Wait!” Guillaume looked frantically to Will and then back to Tom. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

“Boss, he’s bluffing,” Will scoffed. It was strange for him to be even _this_ vocal during an interrogation, but Tom didn’t think much else of it.

“No! I’ll tell you anything!”

“Kill him, sir!”

“No! I swear!”

Tom fired a shot into the ceiling.

“Everybody _shut up_ ,” he growled, biting through the pain in his head. “Were you trying to kill me?”

“No. Say didn’t want me to kill you.”

“Then what the _fuck_ was this—” He pointed to his head. “—for?”

“She wanted me to stall the shipment to throw you off. To waste your time and give her the chance to gain intel. She knows about your—”

Suddenly, Will jolted forward and wrapped his enormous hands around Guillaume's neck. It took Tom a second to realize what was happening. The man gasped and gurgled helplessly for air under the vise-like grip.

“Will! What are you doing?!” Talia shouted, moving to pry him off. He was too strong, though, and kicked her back from him. Tom exclaimed something incoherent as she fell into his arms.

“Will, what the fuck?” he cried out, righting his friend to her feet.

“He was speaking freely!” she rasped, trying to catch her breath after the wind was knocked from her.

But the buff blond didn’t respond to them, too focused on the task—uncalled for—at hand. And soon enough, the Frenchman ceased struggling and went limp in the chair.

“What the fuck?” Tom repeated as Will pulled away, panting heavily. Talia checked Guillaume's pulse and shook her head to signal _nothing._ “Why the _hell_ would you do that?”

“I… I don’t know what came over me…”

“You could have killed Talia with that kick! And you strangled our _only_ connection to Say!”

“I’m sorry, boss; he was just so aggravating. I—”

“As soon as we get back to the office, you are relieved of your duties until further notice. This was stupid, it was reckless, and I will not tolerate this lashing out.” To an onlooker, it would seem like Tom was a father scolding his child. Will wouldn’t look at him. “You just lost us invaluable information.”

“I know… I’m sorry.”

Nobody said a word the whole way back—absolute silence. Tom drove the Escalade with Talia in the front seat and Will in the back. This just fucked up _everything._


	9. Chapter 9

_“She knows about your_ —”

What? What did she know about? His clients? His suppliers?

…His girlfriend?

Tom’s mind reeled back to the trade with Guillaume. The Frenchman’s bad joke about him having a more important meeting than theirs hit him in an instant.

If Guillaume knew, Say _definitely_ knew.

He sighed and ran his fingers through his short curls, brushing over the still-tender side of his head. He always healed relatively fast, and this was no exception. It had been a week since the incident, and the wound had miraculously scabbed over to the size of a runner bean. He only had a mild concussion, which was better than it could have been.

Tom hadn’t seen (y/n) since the evening before the transaction. She texted him every day to let him know she missed him, and he’d always reply that he missed her even more. He knew he was in _so_ deep with her; she was one of the most amazing women he’d ever met. Her devout attentiveness when he’d told her about his head made him feel immensely guilty about leaving her out of the loop. But he couldn’t tell her what had really happened or see how bad it was at first—he had to protect her.

He jerked back in his seat when his desk phone rang, effectively pulling him from his thoughts.

“Yes?” he answered.

 _“Sir, there’s a package for you at the front desk,”_ Brent—the office receptionist—told him.

“Open it and bring the box inside it to my office, please.”

_“Of course, sir.”_

A minute later, Brent swiftly entered with the package and left Tom’s office without more than a nod. He was always awkwardly quiet, but at least he was good at his job.

It was two weeks into December now. The air was cold enough to nip his cheeks raw, and he could feel the holiday season hitting full swing. Everyone scrambled to get gifts before the week-before-Christmas rush, which meant stores would be backlogged on orders, so he was ecstatic that his gift for (y/n) had arrived on time. It wasn’t a typical package either. The black and white box sat before him with the beautiful script logo he’d come to admire— _Saks Fifth Avenue_. He tugged the silk bow loose and delicately slid off the top. He unfolded the tissue paper and smiled warmly as he lifted the black, tea-length cocktail dress from its home.

He was sure (y/n) would love it. She had an exquisite taste in dresses and gowns, so hopefully this would live up to her standards. He could see her in it now—a modern Grace Kelly. She would look so elegant next to him in his bourdeaux suit at the office Christmas Eve party.

For the second time that night, he jumped back when his phone rang, but now it was his cell phone. He smiled as he answered, knowing it was her.

“Little dove.”

 _“Tom…”_ she sounded as if she’d seen a ghost. _“Can I stay at yours tonight?”_

“Of course… What’s happened?”

 _“I think someone’s following me. I_ — _can you please come get me?”_

He shot to his feet and scrambled to put the dress back in the box. “Where, darling?”

_“15th and 7th. I’m hiding in the cafe, but they’re closing soon.”_

“I’m leaving now. 15 minutes.”

 

* * *

 

He sped down 15th Street and turned onto 7th Avenue, smoothly pulling off to the right side and parking next to the cafe. He got out of the white Jaguar and straightened his bespoke suit before making his way inside the empty establishment. The scent of hour-old coffee warmed his nose after being out in the cold—however briefly.

“Tommy,” (y/n) called quietly from their usual spot. The nickname took him aback; she’d never called him that before. It sounded so childlike, but he didn’t mind it at all. It was endearing coming from her, especially seeing as she was clearly distressed.

“I’m here.” He was next to her in three strides, and she stood to hug him tighter than she ever had before.

“I didn’t know what to do. This was the only place that felt familiar enough to stay in.”

“It’s alright, (y/n). Do you need anything from your apartment?”

“Can I wear your clothes?”

“Of course.”

“Then no.”

“Okay. Let’s go home.”

As Tom drove them back to his flat, he couldn’t help but seethe at the idea that Say was using (y/n) against him. Even though it was true that she _was_ his weakness now, he still didn’t want anyone to know that. Come to think of it, it was probably for the best that their lunch date had fallen through the previous week. What was he thinking inviting her to his office full of clients and employees who he couldn’t fully trust?

 _Should I even invite her to the Christmas party?_ he asked himself. _Would it be smart to bring her?_ Someone could use her against him in an instant, and he didn’t want to put her in that situation. She was slowly becoming his entire world, and he was so afraid that she’d get hurt because of him.

He felt her reach for him across the console, and he turned to see her tear-stained cheeks glistening under the passing streetlights. Tom brought her hand to his lips, kissed the back soothingly, and held it there sweetly by his mouth until they arrived at his building. He had her wait to get out of the car so he could open the door for her, ever the gentleman.

“What’s that?” she asked, pointing to the box under his arm. Tom blushed and chuckled, embarrassed that he’d been found out—not like he’d made a valiant effort to hide it from her.

“A gift.” After they made it inside, he handed it to her. “Here.”

Her fingers danced over the logo. “Saks? Tom, what—”

“Just open it.” He smiled sweetly at her confusion, and it turned into a grin as she unfolded the tissue paper to reveal the dress.

She held it up to herself and gasped in shock.

“Tom, this is beautiful…”

“I’m glad you like it, little dove.”

“Why did you get me this?”

He shrugged casually. “Because I could.” Her eyes lit up in wonder at him. _Fuck it,_ he thought. _I can protect her_. “And I thought it would be nice to wear when you accompany me to my office’s Christmas Eve party.”

“How smooth,” she noted with a grin. “Thank you.”

“So you’ll come with me?”

She nodded in response, and he wrapped his arms around her to carry her to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one week? :O 
> 
> I figured I'd try my best to work out a few chapters for you before my school work gets the best of me with finals week approaching. I have another one in the works (it's a big one), so that should be out sometime in December.
> 
> Thank you for reading! I'm going to try and get back to your comments ASAP. <3


	10. Chapter 10

(Y/n) eyed the mahogany double doors to the penthouse ballroom as Tom rested his hand against the small of her back.

“I thought you said this was an office party.”

“Well… more of a cocktail-dinner party… in my office building.”

“Am I dressed well enough?” She turned to him, nervousness etched into her features as she nibbled her bottom lip.

“Of course.” He reached up and smoothed his thumb over her mouth to ease her lip from between her teeth. “I _did_ pick out the gown with this in mind.”

And she looked gorgeous as hell, too. He had to hand it to himself—the ¾ sleeve, tea-length silhouette was very becoming on his girlfriend. Together, they were the pinnacle of poise, and everyone beyond those doors would know it.

“I was expecting a few people in cheesy holiday sweaters drinking punch near their cubicles.”

“Why are you so nervous, little dove?” His brow furrowed with concern. “You’ve done this a hundred times.” She just shook her head.

“There are a lot of rich people in there. I’m not sophisticated like you are.”

“Are you kidding?” He was almost dumbfounded. This breathtaking, elegant woman before him thought she was unsophisticated? Where did all her self-esteem vanish to? “Remember the night we met? You were the most sophisticated woman in that museum.”

“That was different,” she blurted.

“How?”

She opened her mouth as if to explain but shut it again with a click of her teeth.

“(Y/n).” He tilted her chin up. “If it comes down to it, I’ll protect you from the snobs. You can just be my arm candy. You don’t have to talk to anyone.” His hand ghosted from her shoulder to her own hand. “Besides, look at you!” He twirled her in a circle, and the skirt of her dress fanned out around her. The pearls around her neck and hanging from her ears glimmered as they caught the light. “You’re stunning. I can’t quite seem to take my eyes off of you.”

She snorted and turned away from him, blushing but still holding his hand. He squeezed hers with reassurance.

“Come. Drink. Be merry with me.”

“Okay.”

He smiled down at her before guiding her hand into the crook of his arm and leading her inside. A few eyes fell to them as they entered but were re-distracted by whatever first held their attention. Christmas music and conversation filled the enormous ballroom, and (y/n) seemed to relax once she realized how casually the guests were acting—and that no one was paying her any mind.

“See? Not so bad,” Tom whispered into her ear as they made their way to the bar. “Two flutes, please.” The bartender nodded and handed each of them a glass of champagne.

Waitstaff made rounds with trays of appetizers. A few guests came to greet Tom, thanking him for being such a gracious host. He just smiled and nodded and let them speak his praises. (Y/n) peered up at him with a shy grin, and he pulled her tighter into his side to give her silent praise of his own.

It _was_ odd that she wasn’t being more social—she was always an open book around him—but he chalked it up to exhaustion. He couldn’t blame her; what he wouldn’t give to take her home and snuggle with her next to the fire. No parties. No galas. Only them and some wine. Nonetheless, she seemed to be enjoying herself enough now that she was his wallflower. No need to woo any donors on her father’s behalf.

The slow, smooth sound of Michael Bublé’s “The Christmas Song” caught Tom’s attention. He took both of their drinks and set them aside on the bar.

“Dance with me?” he asked (y/n), offering his hand and ignored with nonchalance the few others trying to impress him.

She nodded and let him lead her to the middle of the room. His right hand ghosted down to her left and interlocked their fingers. He held them close to his shoulder while his left reached around to rest upon her lower back. (Y/n) smiled up at him before laying her head against his chest.

They swayed in time to the music. The soft sound of piano floated around them. Tom couldn’t help but feel a swell of warmth within him at such an intimate yet innocent embrace. He felt her hum against his chest, and he pressed his lips into her sweet-pea-scented hair. Nothing mattered but her. This was bliss.

“Tom!”

The pair reluctantly parted and turned to see Talia wading through the multitudes of mingling guests. Tom grinned and called to her in response.

“I’m so glad you made it.” They greeted each other with friendly bises.

“I wouldn’t miss it! You know I love a good holiday party.” She turned to his companion, who had since grabbed a fresh champagne flute and downed it. _Things are about to get flirty_ , Tom mused to himself with a smile, remembering the last time she’d had a drink with him. “You must be (y/n)! Tom has told me so much about you. Though, you’re even lovelier in person.”

“O-oh, thank you,” she stuttered, probably caught off guard at the sudden attention. Talia glanced back to Tom with an incredulous look.

“Have you not talked about _me_?” she joked. He chuckled and shook his head, grabbing a glass from a passing waitress and taking a sip.

“I’m afraid it hasn’t come up. We don’t talk about work much.” He squeezed (y/n)’s hip. “My love, this is Talia. She pretty much runs the place.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you, (y/n). Tom has been head over heels since he met you. It’s hard to keep him from daydreaming.”

“Is that so?” she asked. Tom blushed under his girlfriend’s wondrously flirtatious gaze and nodded.

“You two are lucky to have each other,” she admitted with a grin.

(Y/n) agreed with a smile and then excused herself from the conversation, much to Tom’s surprise. He figured she’d be clinging to him all night for protection, and after that glass of champagne, he was sure she’d be all over him. Had he done something wrong? He watched after her as she barreled through guests, and he relaxed once he realized she was headed toward the hallway with the restrooms.

“Speaking of lucky,” Tom began as he turned back to his friend, “where’s _your_ other half?” Even though he’d suspended Will from work, he hated to see him completely ostracized. The guy had good intentions.

“We’re not an item.” She nudged his shoulder and rolled her eyes.

“Not _officially_.”

“He’s probably in a corner somewhere. You know he’s not social.”

“Why’d he come, then?”

“Free food, free drinks… me. All the good things a party has.”

“Thought you weren’t an item,” Tom retorted with a laugh, scanning the room for him. “He’s over there on his phone.” Talia turned to follow Tom’s line of sight and scoffed.

“Typical.”

She called out to him, and he looked up at them in surprise, as if he’d forgotten where he was. Will offered a little wave before returning his attention to his phone.

“Seems important,” Tom offered.

Talia sighed. “I don’t know. At least he’s occupied.”

“Why don't you just ask him out?”

“He’s not boyfriend material. It’s more of an F-W-B situation.”

“That’s unfortunate. I think you compliment each other really well.”

Talia chuckled and glanced away from him in embarrassment. But then embarrassment shifted to concern.

“Hey, your girlfriend just ran out of the hallway back there.”

“What?”

He turned to see (y/n) rushing toward the front doors. Tom shoved his champagne flute into Talia’s hands and tailed his girlfriend out of the ballroom.

“(Y/n)!” he called. “Where are you going?”

She stopped in her tracks and turned back to face him with her arms wrapped protectively over her chest. Something was _really_ wrong.

He offered his hand to her. “Talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she deflected.

“Where are you going?” he asked again.

“I need a minute.”

He reached for her shoulder, but she pulled away.

“(Y/n), wait—”

“Tom, please,” she barely whispered. “I’ll be back. Just give me a second.”

He stood there helplessly as she rushed down the corridor and out the door to the balcony. _What the hell just happened?_ He felt his chest squeeze tight. _Did someone hurt her? …Touch her?_

His glare hardened as he turned to find the fucker who did this. There was no doubt in his mind that someone had scared her off by assaulting her. _All these entitled, rich, handsy bastards_.

Tom burst through the doors again, frightening a few of the nearby guests, but he didn’t care. Nobody touched his girl like that. Not even himself. Not _ever_ himself.

His jaw clenched when he found that Italian prick Malone waiting outside the men’s room.

“You sick son of a bitch,” he growled. Malone looked up in the nick of time to see Tom grab his throat. “Why are you here?” He kept his voice low as to avoid any more unwanted attention and pressed harder. “Why—are—you—here—Vince?”

“The… fuck…?” he rasped, barely able to breathe under Tom’s vise-like grip.

“You touched my girlfriend, didn’t you? Like you did at that auction.”

Vince managed to shove him off and then gasped for air.

“What the hell… are you talking about?”

Tom jammed his hand into his jacket pocket, pulled out a switchblade, and flipped it open against the other man’s neck.

“You bloody well know what I’m talking about!” Oh, he was _pissed_ now. “You groped her at the auction and just couldn’t keep your grubby hands off her again tonight. Have you been following her?” He could almost hear her panicked voice on the phone from the café again.

“I didn’t touch your broad!” Tom pulled away and immediately clocked him in the jaw with his fist.

“You damn well did at least once, and that’s enough for me. If you touch her—or anyone—again, I’ll kill you. Get the bloody fuck out of my sight. This was invitation only, and I didn’t fucking invite you.”

“You’re insane.” The Italian backed away with his hands raised above his head.

Tom needed a drink. Something harder than champagne. Something that burned.

There was an emergency bottle of whiskey downstairs in his office. _Perfect_.

He dodged the crowd and snuck out the shortcut through the back door of the corridor that led to the balcony. There was no sign of (y/n) anywhere. _I hope she’s somewhere warm,_ he thought, shuddering against the December chill.

His office was only two floors down from there, so he bounced down the stairs on his Louboutin-clad toes. He should’ve went back into the party to find (y/n) and show her around. Her presence always helped him relax. But he was already at the stairwell door, so he pushed through and sauntered to his office.

As he neared, Tom noticed that his door was ajar, which halted him in his conquest. _Great. Exactly what I needed right now._ He always closed it before he left, and then the security system electronically locked it, so he knew someone had managed to get inside. He crept up to see the culprit through the crack.

_(Y/n)? What is she doing in here?_

Tom watched on—confused as hell—as she messed with something on his computer. Is this why she was acting so weird tonight? Was she… was she looking for something? He glanced down at the desk and saw the lid to a thumb drive. _What the hell?_ There was _no way_ she was doing what he thought she was doing…

“Come on, come on, come on,” she muttered into the bright screen.

Jesus Christ, she _was_!

“Come on…”

Tom was completely baffled. How did this happen? She seemed so normal. He thought she loved him. _He_ loved _her_! He really fucking did. But she was playing him the _whole fucking time!_ His throat burned with grief—a silent threat of tears.

He swallowed hard before he spoke—eloquent as ever.

“I can't say I expected this would end in heartbreak and betrayal, little dove.”

Her head shot up and she locked her wide eyes with his.

“Thomas—”

“How did you get in here?” he asked, trying his damnedest to keep his composure.

Silence.

“How did you even know this was my office?”

Again, silence.

His eyes fell away from hers to the desk. “What are you doing with my computer? Hm?” He tried to rationalize why she’d be in his office. _Anything but betrayal. Please. Tell me you got lost._ But he knew the truth. Her silence and grip on the computer mouse pleaded her guilt.

She stood there for a moment, seemingly contemplating her next words.

“Uncovering a psychopath,” she mumbled. Still, the words shocked him. What had she been told about him?

“Not a psychopath,” he corrected. “Just a businessman doing business.”

“Either way.” She glanced away from him to watch the computer screen again.

Tom shook his head and huffed out a weak laugh. “I should’ve known you were too good to be true.”

The download must have finished because she looked up at him before she ripped the thumb drive from the computer and pulled out her gun. _Where was she hiding that?_ She held it up to him shakily, and—even though he could see her emotionless façade crumbling—his heart stopped in his chest.

“Hands up, please,” she commanded as a tremor ran through her hands.

Tom lifted his arms over his head and watched with a glint of skepticism in his eyes. Was she… afraid?

She kept the gun pointed at him as she backed out of the room on her toes.

Then she paused, catching him off guard.

“I can't say I expected to fall in love with you,” she admitted.

Then she ran.

Tom let the tears fall when she disappeared. He was devastated.

 _What the fuck?_ he thought. How could she do this to him? After everything they’d been through… All the dates? The laughter? The affection? She was supposed to be _The One_. She was supposed to be his _soulmate_. His little dove… There was absolutely no way she was _that_ great of an actress to have faked her emotions for the four months that they knew each other.

Then he realized what she said.

 

_I can't say I expected to fall in love with you._

 

“Mother fucker.”

Tom hurdled his desk and ripped the bottom drawer open to grab his gun. She wouldn’t get away from him without an explanation. He loved her too much to let her go that easily.

He burst through the frosted glass office door and turned to see that (y/n) had made it halfway to the side exit already. He raised his gun to shoot, aiming for her thigh—just painful enough to get her to stop running, but nowhere near fatal. Except it was hard to tell where exactly her thigh was through the dress.

_Don’t fuck this up. Don’t miss. Don’t miss._

His ears rang with the sound of the gunshot, but he still heard the bullet’s _clang_ as it lodged in the metal door after grazing her leg. She kept running and pushed through the door to the staircase.

“Damn it!” She was way tougher than she looked, which made him feel oddly proud. Tom ran back into his office and dialed the number to reach everyone on his security-team-on-standby. They were hidden on the lower floors of the building after hours. “I need you do find and restrain the girl who was with me at the party. She’s in a black dress running down the north stairwell. She’s armed, and she’s dangerous, but you are _not_ to harm her.”

He slammed the phone down and ran to the south stairwell. He knew better than to get caught in the line of fire. His heart raced as tears still fell down his cheeks. He needed her back.

With each floor he descended, he could hear the faint sound of gunshots from the other stairwell. Once he reached a point where he didn’t hear them anymore, he knew one of two outcomes had occurred: either she’d found a place to hide or the team had captured her.

Tom entered the first of the lower floors and called for (y/n) when he didn’t see any of his men. He doubted she’d answer, but after searching around, she clearly wasn’t there.

Then he searched the next floor down, and still there was no sign of anyone.

He kept checking and calling out her name until he reached the 14th floor. He could see the flashlights of his men shining into the dark room as they poured in from the north stairwell.

“Find her!” Tom snapped at them as he crossed the room.

The leader of the team, Mark, started to speak.

“We’ve searched every—”

 _Bang!_ Tom shot a bullet into the ceiling to shut him up.

“No more excuses! And I want her alive,” he choked against his will. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Mark answered shakily. The men retreated to the stairwell to continue their search. Tom stood and took a deep breath to center himself. There was nothing but silence—except for Mariah Carey’s “All I Want For Christmas is You” playing quietly from a cubicle at the back of the room.

“Come out, little dove,” he rasped. There was no use holding back the tears now. His chest hurt too much. “You were wrapped up so prettily at the party… I just want my present back.” He tiptoed around the perimeter of the office space, hoping desperately that she was on this floor.

It was never about the stolen information, whatever it was. She was the love of his life, he’d realized. She was the only person who’d ever made him truly happy. He wanted his (y/n) back.

“I'm going to be honest with you, my darling…” he began again. “I’ve said that line on every other floor of this building in hopes that you'd be on it.” Tom chuckled, embarrassed of himself. “I hope I’m not wrong this time.”

There was no response, and he sighed. He just hoped for the love of god that she didn’t jump out at him with her gun.

“All I want…” he sang along with the radio shakily, still creeping along the cubicles. He noticed a movement by the window—her reflection. Tom searched in the nearest cubicle for something to catch her off guard. _A thumbtack._  He tossed it over the next cubicle in hopes that it would land near her feet. “For Christmas…” Tom stuffed his gun into the back of his trousers, readying himself to take his chance. She tried sneaking the other way but yelped as the tack pierced her skin.

He pounced on her. His hand clamped over her mouth, and he struggled to hold her still as she writhed against him.

“…Is you,” he breathed. She thrashed in his arms, desperate to get free, but he was still stronger than her. “Little dove, please,” he managed through gritted teeth. “Please, stop struggling. I just need you to listen.”

She wriggled until she freed her mouth from his grasp. “No! Let me go!” She raised her gun to his head, but he swiftly twisted her arm to aim it toward the ceiling right as she fired. His eyes widened in momentary shock, but he exhaled in relief as the weapon fell to the carpet and he kicked it away.

“Just talk to me!” He backed her against the frozen window and held her there until she looked at him. “(Y/n), please listen. I just want to talk.” He watched tears run down her cheeks, matching his. She was shaking, and he wasn’t sure whether it was from the frozen window, the adrenaline, or both. “I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to know _why_. Please.” Her eyes were wild and full of terror… and something that looked a little like longing.

He couldn’t resist the urge to lean in and kiss her soft lips. His arms encircled her in an attempt to both warm her and deepen the kiss. Tom needed her to know how much he truly loved her, even if this wasn’t the ideal scenario. He’d been waiting too damned long for this. She deserved every kiss he could give her and more.

She relaxed into him and reached up to clutch at his suit jacket. He could taste the salt from her tears, but he didn’t let it stop him. She was so soft and pliant beneath him, just as he imagined. She wanted this, too. And for a moment, he forgot where they were and what was happening. But then she pressed him away from her.

“You shot me.”

“I know, and I’m so sorry.”

When he knew she wouldn’t run again, he took off his tie and gingerly wrapped it around her thigh to stop the bleeding. Her tights and dress were covered in dried blood, and he felt his stomach twist with guilt.

“Why are you doing this, little dove?” He’d finally stopped crying and gained enough composure to try and get his answers.

“She’s going to kill me, Thomas.” (Y/n)’s breathing started to hitch. “She’ll kill me when she finds out I failed.” _What?_ he thought. _What is she talking about?_

Then it all clicked.

He knew exactly who she was talking about.

_Say._

Tom’s gaze hardened as he stood to his full height again.

“No, she won’t. I won’t let her. I have wanted you for so long. I won’t lose you.”

“Please, help me.” She reached into her dress and pulled out the thumb drive, offering it to him with a trembling hand. “Please, Thomas. Take me away from her. Help me escape. Please,” she cried. “I need you.”

Someone cleared their throat behind them. He turned to see Mark standing 20 feet back with his gun poised to shoot. Tom almost rolled his eyes—she clearly wasn’t a threat anymore.

“Stand down,” he ordered. And Mark did. “I will see to it that she has no way of hurting you, little dove.” She sobbed with relief. “Let me take care of you.”

“There are more of me,” she told him. _More of Say’s men_ , he gathered. “They're surrounding the building. We’ll never leave without being detected.”

“There is only one of you, (y/n).” Tom cupped her cheek in his hand. “And I think you forget, darling,” he began with a light smirk, “with whom you are speaking.”


	11. Chapter 11

“(Y/n), we need to go. We have to get that leg patched up.”

“What about your party?”

He laughed in astonishment. “Forget that. We need to get you out of here.” Tom handed her the discarded gun and caressed her cheek to soothe her. “If you see anyone you used to work with, shoot them.”

She nodded and followed him out of the office. All of his associates went ahead of them to take out any loose ends. He kept her close to him at his back; there was no way he’d let anything else happen to her, even if he wasn’t completely sure who she was anymore.

She gasped, and he turned to face her in an instant.

“What is it?” Tom asked. She pointed in horror at a device on the ground.

“They know!” She was starting to panic, but he just crushed the earpiece under his heel. “Fuck me.” She rubbed her temples.

“Darling, we don’t have time for this.” He took her hand in his. “I’ll keep you safe. Trust me.”

He pulled her along down the stairs until they burst through the doors to the car park. The pair halted at the sight of a gun trained on them—no, on _Tom_.

Before he could react, (y/n) had poised her gun, pulled the trigger, and shot the assailant effortlessly between the eyes. Tom almost beamed at her.

They rushed to his car, and he gingerly set her in the passenger seat before taking his own spot on the driver side.

“In the glove box, there’s a small contact lens case with some pain pills inside. Take them. It’ll help with your leg.”

He handed her a water bottle from the floor by his seat. She eagerly took it from him and sipped.

“Thomas, I’m scared,” she rasped.

“I know, my love. But I’ll keep you safe.” The engine roared to life, and Tom expertly maneuvered the white Jaguar to the street level. Without looking, he reached for her hand across the console. “She can’t hurt you anymore.”

It was only 15 minutes into the ride when he felt her grip relax and glanced to see her passed out next to him. He hoped to whatever gods existed that she had a peaceful slumber.

 

He tried to nudge (y/n) awake, to no avail, as he parked his car in the garage below his home—not the well-to-do flat in the city, but his _real_ home; a modern, custom-built safehouse buried deep in the woods 40 minutes away. Tom got out and sauntered around to her side. _The Vicodin really knocked her out_ , he mused, reaching across her to unbuckle the seat belt. He grunted as he lifted her out of the car, careful of her head. He had to admit that she _really was_ the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, even passed out.

Or maybe not-so-passed-out. Her drowsy moans pulled him from his thoughts.

“Little dove,” he whispered. “I have to set you down to get inside the house. Can you stand?” She grunted in response, so he eased her to her feet. “Hold onto me.”

Tom searched his pocket for the keys and unlatched all three deadbolts, then pushed his code into the keypad to open the final lock. The scent of cedar warmed his nose and made him smile. He was so glad to be home. It had been a few months since he’d been here, and he guessed that now was as good of a time as ever—if you could count fleeing from someone who wanted him dead as a _good time_ —to come back. Forgetting about the events of the last two hours, it was almost as if he were bringing (y/n) to _their home_ for the first time. After all, he was practically carrying her through the threshold. It made his heart race just to think about a life of sweet domesticity with her.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, hm?”

“Uh huh…” she mumbled into his shoulder. Tom couldn’t help but chuckle at her, even though he was extremely stressed about the bullet wound on her thigh.

They stumbled through the house to the bathroom, (y/n) almost slipping on the hardwood floor. The first thing he did was grab a towel to put under her on the edge of the black marble tub. Then he rifled through the cabinet beneath the sink for his antiseptic and other first aid supplies. Finally, he knelt at her feet.

“I need you to hold onto my shoulders so you don’t fall.” She leaned forward and did as he asked, and it took every fiber of his being to resist the urge to kiss the tops of her breasts peeking out from her dress. Tom peeled off her stockings. Flakes of blood floated down to the black, marble floor like some morbid version of the snow outside. Her gold anklet glittered in the vanity lights, and he admired it briefly before setting off to his next task. “Arms up, darling.”

“Mm-mm,” she protested with a light headshake, eyes still closed. Tom stood to his full height again.

“Come on, (y/n). I need to get this dress off you so I can see your leg.”

She gave an exasperated sigh, but conceded. He pulled down the side zipper and then tugged up the skirt of the dress. After all that struggle, he finally sat her on the tub—in nothing but her bra and underwear—and gently extended her leg to rest on his shoulder.

“Tooommmm…” she whined as he patted the wet rag against her thigh.

“I know it stings, little dove, but your wound will get infected if it isn't cleaned up.” He made sure she was still well-balanced on the tub before gently massaging the skin around the gash. “I’m so sorry I did this to you,” he muttered through gritted teeth. “I was a fool to think it would stop you.” He really was. There was no doubt that her adrenaline had kicked in long before she ran from the office, and she wouldn’t have stopped until her body literally gave out.

“I… fr—gv… you,” she slurred.

“Thank you,” he sighed with relief. “Now, I’m gonna wrap your leg in bandages, and you are _not_ to touch them. Understand?”

“Mhm.”

“Good. I want you healing as fast and as safely as possible.” After he tended to her, he pressed a chaste kiss just below the gauze. “Bed time.”

Tom lifted her into his arms again and carried her to the bedroom—his bedroom. He couldn’t wait to curl up under the soft duvet and melt into the mattress, but not before he made sure (y/n) was settled in.

He set her on the bed and rifled through his armoire for something more comfortable for her to sleep in. All he found was an old Syracuse jumper. He vaguely remembered telling Will that he’d gotten this from a friend, but Tom genuinely didn’t know how it got in his things. One day, he just found it in his luggage and didn’t think any different of it. _This will have to do,_ he thought while making a note to get (y/n) some clothes.

“I’m going to take your bra off so you’re more comfortable. I promise I won’t look.” He reached behind her, eyes averted to the ceiling, to unhook the bra. His fingers slid the straps off her shoulders and tossed it behind him onto the floor. “Arms up once more, darling.”

This time, she did as he asked, and he slid the shirt over her head with as much ease as one could expect putting a jumper on a drugged-up woman would allow.

“There you are.” Tom smoothed back her flyaways and kissed her forehead before tucking her in.

She sighed contentedly as Tom snuggled up beside her.

“You did so well tonight. I’m very proud of you, my little dove.” She was already asleep again, and the man couldn’t help but smile.

Tom lay awake for hours after she fell asleep, holding her close to his chest with his right arm under her and wrapped around her back. Even though they had a lot of shit to work through, he loved her. And he had her back in his arms after a long two hours. Nothing could get in his way of protecting her. He wouldn’t let it—not on his life.


	12. Chapter 12

Tom awoke before the sun, and his head _fucking_ hurt. His damned biological clock had him waking up at six every morning, and after the night he’d had, he was sure he would’ve slept until at least ten. Alas, the incessant pounding in his ears from lack of proper sleep proved him wrong.

He sighed and stretched his impossibly-long legs like he did every other morning, but unlike every other morning, there was another pair entwined with his. His toes grazed the warm chain of her anklet—the one she never took off. He reached for (y/n)’s hip to pull her closer to him, and he grinned when she roused briefly to nuzzle into him. His eyes fluttered open to see her peaceful face squished into the pillow. Tom snorted at the silly sight.

His hand grazed down her soft, warm skin further from her hip until he felt the rough edge of the gauze wrap. He frowned, and his gut sank with guilt and disappointment again. His little domestic fantasy shattered for the second time—exactly as it had last night.

 _Poor darling,_ he thought, wincing at the memory of the fight. No amount of remorse would ease the knot in his stomach. Though, that probably had something to do with the fact that he also felt betrayed by her. Not a great cocktail of feelings to wake up to in the morning.

Christmas morning.

“Ah, fuck,” he groaned and rolled away from (y/n). He hadn’t gotten her anything besides the dress. He’d really meant to, but work always had a way of getting the most of his attention, especially in planning the cocktail party.

Now he had even _more_ shit to work out. Tom turned back to the sleeping woman beside him while he attempted to think through a plan of attack. They had serious matters to discuss, but she’d clearly been through hell. _In time,_ he concluded. He could do most of the work on his own.

Well… Maybe he needed a _little_ help from his friends.

Tom kissed (y/n)’s nose—sure to not wake her—before he peeled himself out of bed. Coffee and a run would give him a good jump-start.

 

* * *

 

The bitter December air bit his cheeks as he jogged back toward home. He re-dialed the most recent number in his phone and tried to even out his breathing.

It rang three times before there was an answer.

 

_“Hello, Casanova.”_

“Tal, I need help.”

_“Oh. What’s up?”_

“What size do you think (y/n) wears in jeans?”

_“What? I don’t know. Why don’t you just ask her? And where’d you two run off to last night?”_

He sighed. “It’s a long story. I’ll get you up to speed when we come back to work. Just—if you had to guess…”

_“Tom, I genuinely don’t know. I’ve met her once and haven’t seen her legs. Just go off her dress size.”_

He sighed. “Alright. Thanks. Happy Christmas.”

_“Happy Christmas, you absolute buffoon.”_

 

Well, that was absolutely no help. He knew he had to get (y/n) some clothes, and there wasn’t any possible way they’d be able to safely get her things without being watched—at least, not right away. _Guess nothing would be open on Christmas day, anyway_.

Maybe he’d take her out on a shopping spree tomorrow so she could help him pick out some clothes. She’d like that.

Wait. No. He already reasoned that it wasn’t safe to take her out. He’d just have to do it himself. He remembered that she’d left a few things at his place in the city, so he could go back and get them for her. _It’s a start._

He might as well just go home and enjoy being with his girlfriend for the holiday. As much as he was angry—not at her, but at the situation—Tom wanted to pamper her and treat her like a princess like he’d planned to all those months ago.

Tom’s stomach dropped as he slid on a patch of black ice and almost ate shit. _God, I can’t wait to get back onto that heated driveway,_ he thought.

 

* * *

 

“You're awake.” He leaned against the door frame nonchalantly with a glass of water in one hand and vicodin in the other. “Oh, no, no,” he tutted when he saw her try to stand. “Back down on the bed.”

She did as he asked and looked down at her feet.

“Thank you for not killing me.” She clutched at the white sheets.

“I should say the same to you,” he replied, pushing off the wall and sauntering across the room. “Your gun skills are lacking though. You almost took out a perfectly good ceiling light.”

She smiled at that, which made him a little less worried about her.

“I never thought you'd be one for mercy. Let alone having a soft, compassionate side.” That made him feel worse again. How could she say that? Had he not shown her how much he loved her before all of this?

_Easier to play along than get into it now._

“Again, I could say the same about you.” He eased down onto the mattress and handed her the glass and pain pill. She eyed it incredulously. “It’s just Vicodin,” he reassured her.

“It just seems out of character. You're so elegant and threatening on the job.” (Y/n) held out her hand for the pill and took the water.

“Exactly. It's because I'm _on the job_. It’s all a façade,” he explained. Tom watched as she struggled to swallow the painkiller. “I wouldn't expect you to be so fragile and vulnerable.” That wasn’t a complete lie. Days before, he wouldn’t imagine her being anything _but_ fragile and vulnerable. But his stomach churned as he sat beside this trained killer with whom he’d once hoped to settle down. Now he didn’t know _what_ he wanted. “You are indeed a worthy adversary.”

“Surely the elegance isn’t a _façade_ ,” she joked. Tom chuckled and ran a hand through his hair anxiously as he blushed. Damn. “Still, thank you for not sending me to my execution.”

 _I could never_ , he thought defensively. But it was better to stay neutral for now.

“Why did you give in to me?” he asked.

“I didn't. I changed my mind.”

“About what?”

“About you.”

“Please explain.”

“After two or three of our encounters, I started to develop…” She sighed. “This is too childish.”

“Continue. I want to know.”

“I developed… _feelings._ For _you_.” There was a long pause between them.

“Oh?”

“Every time we met after the first, each time we spoke at a dinner or a gala, I wanted to be closer to you. It started out as something solely sexual, but it evolved into a longing for safety and security from _her_. And she knew it, my boss. She could tell when I started getting sloppy that I wanted you to help me escape from her.” (Y/n) leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees and held her head in her hands. “She used my fantasies of you against me to get me back on track and keep me on her side. She said you were making me feel this way to hurt me. And I believed her.” Tom’s hand squeezed her good thigh reassuringly, and she looked back up at him. The pain in her eyes was so real. “I didn't want to, but she was so convincing. She knew my Achilles heel and took advantage of it.”

“What is it?”

“I'm a hopeless romantic. But I'm also a realist.” She snickered. “Her plan backfired, though. The more you and I interacted, the more I knew I was right. That you—”

“That I could give you all the things you wished for,” he gathered.

“I fell for you out of necessity.”

“Necessity?” He thought he knew what she meant before, but that caught him off guard. She was only with him because she needed him? Using him? There was no way that was the only reason. He decided to let her finish.

“For my survival. You're the only person who really knew my lifestyle and how to get me out. But as I dug myself deeper into these fantasies of getting away from her, I realized it wasn’t just necessity. It was desire.”

“Desire for…” He needed her to say it—to admit it really _was_ love. He needed her to admit that he wasn’t crazy for thinking she loved him.

“For you. I wanted _you_.”

 _Thank god,_ he thought.

“It wasn’t only for my survival anymore. I wanted to be yours. You always treated me like your equal when I was undercover. The way you always spoke to me like I was a real person… Even the way you danced with me, laughed at my jokes, teased me… And the way you called me—still call me—your ‘little dove…’ It just made me feel like more of a damsel in distress waiting for my prince to save me.”

She pulled at the hem of the sweatshirt, and Tom knew in that moment he hadn’t made a mistake in judgement. He knew her true intentions, and he couldn’t help but feel absolutely overjoyed

“But anyway… That’s why I ‘gave in.’”

Tom leaned closer and pulled her into a soft kiss before she could continue. She squealed at the suddenness of it but melted into him. He cupped her cheek in his hand and used his thumb to stroke the skin there. She parted her lips and let his tongue explore her mouth. Yes, this was truly how two people in love kissed.

“I’m sure you could have saved yourself,” he said once they parted. She looked away in embarrassment. “I’m glad you changed your mind. And I meant what I said last night; I have wanted you for so long. Not just to defeat your boss—because I had no idea you were a spy until last night—but because I also developed feelings for you. It was before I knew who you really were. But I still feel the same knowing who you are now.” He took her hand in his. “It’s impractical in our line of work, but it damn well happens.”

“I can’t help but think that all of this is you trying to deceive me—that she was right all along—but I really, _really_ hope it isn’t.”

God damn it! Why couldn’t she just _see_ how much he loved her?

“Like I said: I didn't even know you were a spy until last night. I will try to make you believe me. It’ll be the hardest job yet,” he said, still cupping her cheek. Her eyes glazed as she stared through him. He just stroked her shoulder and let her ride out whatever she was thinking about. “I will protect you. Trust me.”

“What?”

“I said ‘I will protect you. Trust me.’”

“Oh.”

“You seemed far away just then.”

“Yeah. I just don’t really remember what happened after we left the office last night. Some things keep coming back to me, but it’s still pretty hazy.”

“Ah, yes. That’s because you were crying that your leg hurt, so I gave you some painkillers in the car. You had already lost a lot of blood, too, so you were flying _pretty_ high.” He stood and offered his hand. “We should get you some breakfast.”

“What happened after you smashed the earpiece?”

“We ran down the stairwell and into the basement.” Tom led her into the hallway and down the two steps to the foyer. “I got the all clear from my men that there were none of your coworkers left. When we made it to the parking garage, there was actually one more waiting, but you took him out swiftly. It was quite impressive.”

“Thanks.”

“Then, I sat you in the passenger seat of my Jag, and I drove us to my safehouse.”

“Is that where we are now?” She looked around the kitchen as he motioned for her to sit on one of the stools.

“Precisely. Then, I got you to strip off your soiled clothes and let me clean you up. It was actually harder than you would think. You're feisty when you're on a medicinal high.” She laughed with him at that. “I suspect you actually do like French toast?” He casually switched the subject. “That wasn’t a lie, was it?”

“No, it wasn’t.” She grinned at him.

Tom nodded and set off to make breakfast for them. He hadn’t had French toast in _years_. It just wasn’t something he ever really enjoyed enough to make on his own. In fact, the last time he’d had it was at an undercover brunch with Talia in some small Maryland town.

The sweet scent of warm vanilla soothed him. _Mm, that would smell divine on (y/n)_. He made a note to himself to buy her some vanilla body wash when he went to get her some clothes. He wanted to get her a piece of jewelry too, but he needed something both symbolic of his devotion and _innocuous_ —no rings.

Soon after his daydream of showering her with gifts, their food was done. He slid a plate in front of her, and she smiled down at it.

“It smells wonderful, Thomas.”

“Thank you, little dove,” he replied, seating himself next to her.

“Do you cook a lot?” (Y/n) asked as she shoved a huge piece of toast in her mouth. Tom grinned and wiped a drop of syrup from her chin with his thumb. He licked it clean subconsciously and realized how misleading that may have been. Her pupils blew a little wider, and that boosted Tom’s confidence a bit. At least the attraction wasn’t fake.

“Yes. I have to, or else I'll starve. No one else lives with me.”

“You don't hire a chef?” He shook his head.

“Can't be trusted. I'll admit, I am a little paranoid about things.”

“It makes sense. I would be, too.”

“Did _you_ have a personal chef?”

“Only because she wanted me to. She didn't think I could cook for myself without burning down the apartment she paid for.”

“Your employer?”

“Yes. She didn't have much faith in me to keep myself alive outside of work.”

“I'll bet she's wrong.”

“I would put money on it that she’s right.”

“Does _she_ have a name?”

“I only know her as Ms. C. She never told anyone her full name for safety reasons.”

Tom slouched a bit in defeat. He could’ve sworn they were on the same page and that they were after Ms. _Say_. But maybe he was wrong. _J_ _ust another problem I have to fix._

“Well, that certainly doesn't help us,” he finally said.

“Help us what?”

“Bring her down. She'll try to come after you. I'd rather she not be successful, so we need to take her down first before she can.”

(Y/n)’s eyes lit up like a child on—well, _Christmas_. “How will you find her?”

“Hopefully, you can give me enough information to start searching.”

“I don't know much.”

“Surely there must be some things you know about her.” Tom took her hand in his and stroked the back with his thumb reassuringly.

“I mean, I guess so. I just think you'll be disappointed.”

“Any information is helpful, darling. And if it leads nowhere, that isn't your fault.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” He smiled softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being MIA! (^▽^;) 
> 
> I hope you can forgive that writing has been really hard lately. I keep getting new ideas before I've finished any old ones. 
> 
> Slow and steady wins the race, but what about slow and sporadic? (〃-ー-)ﾉ
> 
> I hope you enjoy this update. Words of encouragement are not expected but are much appreciated!


	13. Chapter 13

After their breakfast, Tom had changed (y/n)’s bandages and his syrup-covered shirt.

Well…

He changed _out_ of it.

Once he’d taken care of her, his girlfriend napped on the sofa in the living room, curled up in front of the fire like a cat. It took all the strength in him to keep his hands from running along her bare leg to soothe her. He didn’t want to wake her, so instead he set off to read a novel for the first time in some months.

But Tom’s eyes could barely focus on one sentence. His thoughts ran wild. His lover was finally resting for what could’ve been the first time in _months_. He didn’t know what she’d gone through while gathering intelligence, but he had noticed that she was constantly exhausted; this is why he never really took her out much. Sure, they’d gone to dinner a few times, but never dancing or hiking or sightseeing. Most of their time together had been spent lying on the sofa and eating takeaway because, quite honestly, Tom never felt like cooking around her. Whether it was because he was nervous that she wouldn’t like his food or because he couldn’t stand to have something else take his attention away from her, he wasn’t sure. But that was about to change. Tonight, he would cook with her. They would create something _together_ so there was less pressure on him to be perfect.

* * *

 “So what _can_ you make?” he asked, leaning back on the counter. The way (y/n) eyed his bare chest didn’t go unnoticed—in fact, it made Tom feel oddly proud of himself.

“Um… Cereal?”

He laughed.

“You know what I meant.”

“The only thing I can really do is boil pasta and heat up canned sauce.” Tom scrunched his nose in disgust. “What, you don't like processed tomato paste?” She asked, obviously poking fun at his _sophisticated_ palate.

“I'm going to teach you how to make a real pasta dish.”

“You sound so snobby right now.” He wasn’t a _snob;_  he just respected pasta too much to disgrace it with canned sauce.

“Once you go snob, you never go back,” he joked back.

“I don't think I'm ready for anything other than TV dinners.”

He clutched his chest in fake agony. “Little dove, you're killing me.”

“Then come _on_ , Gordon Ramsay. Teach me something.”

_Fine._

“We’re doing pasta.” Tom’s lungs felt like they were on fire. What if he fucked this up in front of her? She’d laugh in his face! _No, she won’t_ , he tried to console himself. _She can’t cook for her life! She won’t know the difference_.

(Y/n) nodded and reached up to grab a pot from the hanging rack above the counter. The jumper she wore rose up just enough to show some skin, and Tom had a wicked thought about tickling her senseless. _That_ could ease the tension he felt…

He pounced on her immediately.

“Stop! Stop!” she shrieked with laughter. “Thomas!”

“If I had known you were ticklish, our night would have ended much sooner,” he chuckled, thinking about their coup d’état.

“Tom, please!” She dropped to the floor to get away from him, but he just followed her right down and kept tickling her soft sides. “I can't breathe! I'm gonna pee!”

Tom grimaced playfully. “Alright, alright. I don't want you peeing all over my nice tile.”

“You really are a villain,” she mused, out of breath. Tom just grinned as he stood and grabbed the pot effortlessly. “My hero.”

He smirked, intrigued. “Well, which is it, darling? Hero or villain?”

She thought for a moment. “Which one gets me dessert?”

“Depends on what you mean by dessert.” He helped her to her feet. “Chocolate cake? Cookies? Or maybe another _sinful_ treat…” Oh, how he _longed_ to devour her.

“We haven't even started cooking yet, and it's already a million degrees in here,” she giggled nervously, fanning herself with her hand. The blush on her cheeks made pride surge through him again. Tom handed her the pot, grinning unabashedly.

“Thanks.” (Y/n) filled it with water and placed it on the glass stovetop to heat up.

“Now for the sauce.” He grabbed another pot and placed it on the stove, but didn't heat it yet. He reached for a cutting board. “First, the onions and garlic.”

She wrinkled her nose.

“What?” he chuckled.

“Onions are gross.”

“You won't even be able to taste them.”

“Then why are they in the recipe?”

Tom pulled her closer and kissed her forehead. “You will be the end of me, my little dove.”

“Only if the onions don't end me first!”

Tom rolled his eyes and grinned again. “Just trust me.”

She finally resigned, and he sandwiched her between the counter and his body. (Y/n)’s warmth made his skin tingle with exhilaration. His fingertips ghosted down her arm to her hand, and he gently guided her to take a knife from the block. “Careful;” he leaned close to her ear, “chopping onions tends to cause people to tear up.”

“I don't need to chop the onion for it to make me cry,” she purred back. He steadied her hand and pushed the knife down, slicing through to the cutting board.

“You are so stubborn,” he growled. He could feel her starting to take over, and it brought him great joy to have her as a student.

“At least I'm letting you teach—ah!” She dropped the knife as if it were on fire, and Tom stiffened before taking her hand in both of his to examine the wound.

“Well, you don't need stitches. Let's get you a plaster.” (Y/n) took her hand back and sucked on it to stop the bleeding. She watched him with the awe of a child as he pulled her finger from her lips and cleaned and bandaged it. It was as if this was the first time someone had been this gentle with her, and it tugged at Tom’s heart.

“Thank you, Thomas.” His stomach burned with intrigue at the use of his full name again. It always sounded so… natural coming from her. He never liked it growing up and had just settled on _Tom_ because it was easy and short and classic. But _Thomas_ just… it was honey on her tongue.

“Of course.” He kissed her cheek.

“Maybe you should do the chopping from now on,” she yielded, hopping back up onto the counter.

“That's a smart idea.” Tom smiled, wiping off the knife. “I don't need you getting any _more_ injuries.” He glanced down at her thigh, almost sorrowfully, but she hooked her finger under his chin to lock eyes again.

“I forgive you for shooting me.”

“ _Grazing_ you,” he corrected jokingly, cutting the rest of the onion.

“To-may-to, to-mah-to,” she jested, tossing a tomato up and admiring it.

After Tom finished the sauce, and the linguine was perfectly boiled—al dente—he plated the meal, poured her some water and some wine for himself, and ate with her at the counter.

Tom reached for a small remote and suddenly, soft Christmas music played throughout the house. (Y/n) looked enormously surprised.

“Oh my god. I totally forgot.”

“Happy Christmas, little dove.” He grinned and nudged her with his shoulder.

“Now you _have_ to give me wine.”

“Nope.”

“Why not?” she whined.

“You're on drugs.”

She scoffed. “Lame. Can I at least have a sip of yours?”

“No.”

“Whyyyy?”

“You're on drugs,” he repeated, mouth full of pasta.

“Only pain meds!”

“You aren't supposed to mix alcohol and any medicine.” He sipped his wine with a smirk.

“Yeah, but—”

“Ah, ah. No buts. Just _your_ delicious butt in that chair, drinking _not_ -alcohol.”

She hesitated, seeming to think through her next plan of attack. He knew she wouldn’t let him off this easy.

“You like my butt?” She cocked an eyebrow, trying to flirt as a means to get around him.

“I do, but you're still not getting any.”

She groaned and rested her head on his shoulder.

“But, you know what we can do?”

“...give me wine?” She glanced up innocently. He laughed and shook his head.

“ _No_! We can make cookies. It is Christmas, after all.”

“I can't cook, Tom.”

“Come on. You can't turn down Christmas cookies,” he almost whined.

“Are there any knives involved?”

“None at all.”

“Alright.” She sat a little taller. “Let me finish my pasta first. It's _really_ good.”

“I bet it'd be better with wine,” he teased. She punched his shoulder playfully, and they laughed with each other.


	14. Chapter 14

Tom decided that he’d treat (y/n) today.

Not that he didn’t treat her every other day…

But Tom couldn’t help but notice how much she tossed in her sleep last night—and throughout the day… She’d been knocked out for a good 16 hours. And usually, she stayed so still in his arms, so he knew her body was probably sore from all the stress. He figured she could use some relaxation today. He’d make the house into a mock-spa fit for a princess, starting with a hot bath.

He started the water and lit unscented candles for a little more ambiance in the dark bathroom. He remembered her telling him once that she liked his lavender-scented air fresheners in the apartment, so he looked under the sink for his bottle of lavender oil to add to the water. Even just opening the bottle made him physically relax.

Just as he set the bottle down on the side of the tub, the door opened behind him, and he turned to see (y/n) rubbing her eyes of sleep.

“What's all this?” she asked, picking up the bottle and reading the label.

“I've run you a bath. You need some time to recuperate after our encounter the other night.” He told her as he stood. She turned around to see each candle flickering around the room. “Besides, you can't have alcohol, so this is the next best thing, I think.”

“Tom, this really isn't necessary.” He wrapped his arms around her from behind and kissed her neck.

“Of course it is, little dove.” He turned her around to face him.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll leave you to it while I go prepare something for dinner.” He pressed one last kiss to her forehead before leaving to do just that.

“Wait.” He turned back to the bathroom to see her poke her head out of the door frame. “Dinner? What time is it?”

“Just past five, my darling,” he called back. “Enjoy your bath.”

“Nothing with onions!” His laugh echoed down the hall, and he heard the door shut with a soft click.

God, she was so cute. His grin couldn’t even be _slapped_ off his face. Tom was as giddy as a boy who had his first kiss with a girl from school. It almost felt normal this way. He never realized it before, but he wouldn’t be opposed to dropping everything and being her stay-at-home boyfriend. He finally had someone to cook for. To pamper. To care for. It made him feel good. This is why he always tried to give Talia gifts as thanks for everything she did for _him_. As a kid, he was always looking for ways to take care of his mother and sisters because they did so much for him; it was just something he felt was right for him to do. His mum always told him he was going to make some lucky girl so happy when he grew up. Tom smiled to himself. (Y/n) was that girl, but _he_ was the lucky one.

“Right,” he said to center himself. “Nothing with onions.”

Perhaps a curry.

 _With onion powder_.

He chuckled to himself as he figured he’d be able to sneak that in without her even noticing. He’d best her with some spices.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Something was wrong.

He turned back toward the hall and just barely blocked a flying pan aimed directly at his forehead. His eyes widened in pure shock at the strange man standing before him.

“Who the fuck—”

The other man hurdled the island counter and punched Tom square in the jaw.

“Fucker…” he growled as he rubbed his face. He poised to fight back but never got the chance because his attacker had him from behind in one fell swoop. Tom thrashed and kicked the pot in his struggle.

“Tom?” (y/n) called from the bath.

His stomach dropped. _No, no, no!_ He tried to cry out in response, but the hand over his mouth and clutching his throat were making it a little difficult.

“Thomas?” she called again.

_Shut up, shut up, shut up! You’ve given yourself away!_

He silently prayed to any gods above that she would stay put. But obviously, she was too oblivious for that. She rounded the corner of the hall in only a towel and found Tom gagged and struggling to fight off the intruder. He pleaded with his eyes for her to run. Anywhere. _Just go!_

His assailant was probably too preoccupied to notice her there, even if he had heard her call out before. She was able to slip back to the bathroom undetected.

But just as he felt an ounce of relief, another intruder crossed his field of vision and snuck into the hallway.

She cried out, and Tom’s fight instinct kicked in tenfold. Blood pounded in his ears as he thrashed against his captor. He bit down as hard as he could on the gloved hand over his mouth until he was free. The grip on his throat eased, and Tom nailed the guy in his nose with the back of his head so hard that it knocked him out cold… and Tom’s head _hurt_.

“(Y/n)!”

“Thomas! Thoma—” There was a thud and a muffled whimper. “Help!”

Tom grabbed the first attacker’s gun and rushed to the hallway. He aimed and fired, nailing the other man in the head. He fell and took (y/n)’s towel with him. Tom relaxed once he realized the man wouldn't move again and looked up at his lover.

“Wha—”

“We need to leave,” he said, speeding toward her in an instant. She just stood and stared at him. “ _Now_ , (y/n),” he growled, looking her up and down, realizing that this is the first time he’d actually seen her naked.

She ducked into the bathroom, and Tom made his way to their room. (Y/n) hurried in after finding a robe.

“I'm sorry for snapping at you,” he grumbled, shoving all the clothes he could fit into two small duffels.

“It's fine. He was Ms. C’s. They both were.”

“I heard him hit your leg against the wall.”

“Yeah. It hurts, but I can wait.”

“There's still Vicodin in the car from last night. I think there's another water bottle, too.”

“How did you get away from the other one?”

“Hit his nose with the back of my head. Don't worry, it's his,” he said, keeping his eyes down and focused on the bags as she undoubtedly examined the blood in his hair. She needed to get decent. He couldn’t let himself get distracted by her beautifully naked body.

Though he did notice her wrap his glass cologne bottle in a shirt before adding that to her bag.

“Darling, just the necessities.”

“I'm not going into hiding with a man who smells like B.O.”

He chuckled, although it sounded a bit clipped.

“Put these on.” He threw a tee and some sweatpants at her face, and she squealed. “Sorry.”

He felt a smirk tug at his lips. _Not now, Hiddleston. You can think about how domestic that was when you’re safe._ She held the clothes in her hands, not really knowing if she should change in front of him. He sighed.

“There's not really a need for modesty anymore, is there?” Still, he didn't look up at her, equally as embarrassed at how she was turning him on by just _existing_. She sighed and shrugged off her robe, and Tom instinctively glanced up at the movement. He blushed and tore his gaze from her once more. “You really are a sight, you know.”

“Tom, I need panties.” She was avoiding the growing tension between them.

“Mmm. No, you don't,” he chuckled, flashing a saucy look.

“I don't think now is the time to flirt.”

He stopped to mull it over.

“Is it not always a good time to flirt?”

“I thought you were in a hurry,” she scoffed, pulling on the pants without underwear, anyway. He laughed and resumed his task of arming himself with two handguns and enough ammunition for a shoot out. “Whoa, you're definitely packing heat.”

Without thinking, he replied. “In more ways than one, little dove.”

Both their eyes widened. Tom kicked himself for letting that slip. She looked down at his painful erection.

“Pull yourself together, Thomas!”

“Well, I don't have time to take a cold shower or fuck you into my mattress, so we’ll just have to deal with it.” Her cheeks flamed red. Tom couldn’t believe he had been that brazen.

“Do you already know where we’re going?” She changed the subject.

“Yes, my darling.” He zipped his bag shut. “My second safe house.”

“Is it as nice as this one?”

“They're identical. Now come on.” He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her along, stepping over the body by the bathroom. Tom pulled out his phone and dialed the number for his team from last night. “I need you to go to number one and clean up.”

 _“Dead?”_ Mark asked.

“Yes.”

_“How many?”_

“Two.”

_“You got it.”_

“Thank you.”

He grabbed the bags and threw them in the boot before taking out a license plate from the hidden compartment. He ripped off the old one and replaced it as quick as the magnets would pull the new one onto the mount. With a sigh of frustration, he fell into his seat and started the car.

(Y/n) found the Vicodin again, but unfortunately all the water was gone. Tom was about to offer to run back inside for some, but she had already popped the pill into her mouth and dry-swallowed it. _Ow._

He sped off the property and down country roads. His grip on the steering wheel was lethal around every bend. He pushed a button on the wheel and the radio played soft, classical music through the speakers.

(Y/n) turned to him, but he kept his eyes on the road.

“Won't they know your car if they see it?”

“I change the plates and tags every time I use it.”

“Interesting,” she replied casually. He could tell she was distracted. “Do you happen to have gum in here? Or maybe mints? This taste is wretched.”

“Should be something in the glove box.”

“So your other safe house is exactly like this one?”

“Yes, almost exactly. The only differences are slight.” He smiled to himself at the memory of Talia’s surprise when he told her he wanted to commission her for two homes. “I'm quite fond of the style.”

“Me too. The modern style fits you well, Thomas. Not too opulent but also never shabby.”

He chuckled. “Never thought as a kid that I'd end up with two identical homes. Especially not ones this nice.”

“I bet kid-you would be jealous. I know I would be.”

What an amusing idea.

“If we—as children—met us now, how do you think we would react to all this?” Tom glanced over at her with a grin.

She thought for a moment. “I don't think I'd tell me that I'm a spy. I’d tell her I married a rich man.”

“And by rich man, you mean me?” Tom was genuinely delighted at the idea.

“Or a more successful you,” she tried to joke.

He turned to her and rolled his eyes.

“Darling,” he purred. “There is absolutely no version of myself who is more successful.”

“Touché.” They sat in silence for a few moments before she spoke again. “What if someone attacks us on the road?”

“What do you mean?”

“What would happen?” She wrung her hands together anxiously. “How would you react? Would you fight back or keep driving or use me as a human shield or…” Tom's face hardened slightly as she trailed off.

“I told you I would keep you safe. I do not break promises.”

That was enough to placate her, it seemed. For good measure, he took her hand and rubbed his thumb along her skin.

Soon after, she dozed off, hand still in his.


	15. Chapter 15

_“Did you know,” she began, absentmindedly caressing the soft skin of her stomach that peeked out from under the hem of her jumper, “that you’re the most handsome man I’ve ever met?”_

_“Oh, really?” Tom asked, rolling over to face her properly. (Y/n) smiled cheekily and nodded, moving her hand up to her breast as if to entice him._

_“Really. I don’t know how a man like you even exists.”_

_“Well.” He perched his elbow next to her on the mattress and cradled his chin in his hand. “I’m sure it’s only because a woman like you needs someone as stunning as her to love.”_

_“So you agree?”_

_“What?”_

_“That you’re the most handsome man that exists.”_

_He narrowed his eyes in jest. “Oh, you sneaky spy. Trying to make me look like a fool who’s full of himself.” Tom crawled over her and kissed her sweetly. “Making me look like a narcissist.”_

_“If the shoe fits…” she kissed him back, cupping his cheeks in her hands. “Then wear it.”_

_Tom loved how soft her lips were on his own. She was like nothing he ever imagined he’d have. A perfect woman. She shifted so she sat atop him now as she deepened the kiss._

_God, he wanted her so bad. They had waited far too long to sleep with each other, but he didn’t know how to bring it up to her without accidentally pushing a boundary he didn’t know was there. But he wanted her naked hips rocking above him, taking everything he gave her. He wanted to tease her—to_ be teased _by her. How he longed for the sensation of her hot cunt around his—_

_Cock. She was palming his cock._

_Tom’s eyes rolled back with pleasure as she coaxed groans from him._

_“Will you fuck me, Tommy?” she almost whined, straddling his lap and rolling her hips against him. “Please fuck me.” That time it_ was _a whine. “God, I need you. I need you so bad. I’ve been waiting for you to just_ take me _for so long_ .” _She ground herself on his thigh, desperate to relieve herself. “Please!”_

_She was like a bitch in heat—so eager to fuck him that he thought she might just start fucking herself with her hand. (Y/n) took Tom’s own hand and sucked two fingers into her hot mouth. His eyes blew wide in awe at how her tongue might feel on his impossibly hard dick instead._

_He tried to speak but she had him under her intoxicating spell. He couldn’t move. He almost couldn’t_ breathe. _She was so good to him. So, so, so good._

_“Why won’t you fuck me?” she cried, helplessly bouncing up and down while trying to impale herself on him through his boxers. His eyes blew wide with shock. Why was she doing that?_

I will! _he tried to shout, but no sound came from his throat. All he could hear was his ragged breathing as she ground her wet pussy on his bare chest now—anything to create the friction she needed to reach her release. And he was helpless to watch. It was as if he had been drugged with a muscle relaxer and she had been given some sort of aphrodisiac that put her out of her own mind._

_Everything was really, really wrong._

_But one thing especially._

_Her face._

Where is it? _he panicked. All he could see where her beautiful eyes and lips and nose should’ve been was a blur, as if she were an unfinished masterpiece. A stranger to him._

Where are you?! _He wanted to reach out and brush it away so he could look at her, but he couldn’t. What the fuck was happening?_

_“Do you even want me?”_

_Tom struggled to move again but whatever was keeping him still wouldn’t budge. He was paralyzed beneath her._ “Yes! I’m yours!” _But his mouth didn’t move. His blood boiled with effort._ “(Y/n), please! Fuck me!” _He needed her. He needed her so bad. But something wouldn’t let him_ have her.

_“You have to want me! All of me! Every last part of me!”_

_“I DO!” he shouted,_ finally _, breaking whatever force held him. But as soon as he was freed, (y/n) began to slip away from him. “NO!” The vision of her before him flickered like an old movie reel. His heart stopped. “(Y/n)... Come back…”_

 

* * *

 

Tom rutted against the mattress in his sleep. Soft breaths slipped from his lips in quiet huffs against the pillow. Suddenly, his body stiffened and a pained groan caught in his throat. He spilled himself into his boxers and his muscles melted into the mattress.

His eyes fluttered open and he was filled with immediate relief that he had only been dreaming. A terrible dream, but a dream nonetheless.

“Oh, fuuuuck.” He realized that he’d orgasmed in his sleep for the first time in ages. He hated that—too messy first thing in the morning. He was just glad that (y/n) hadn’t witnessed him in arguably his most vulnerable and embarrassing state. Plus, that dream was fucking insane, and he wouldn't even know where to start explaining what made him so aroused.

He rolled onto his back and sighed deeply, rubbing his tired face with one hand. Tom was always someone who appreciated dream analysis and found that most of the time, he was able to make connections between his dreams and reality.  

But this?

What could this dream have possibly meant? And how could he have dreamed of her that way? As a faceless woman whose only purpose was to be insatiably aroused for him? It should’ve made him upset to see her that way. He should’ve realized something was weird. He was a gentleman, for Christ’s sake, and she was a _real_ woman… a real woman for whom he cared so deeply. He hated himself for getting off in his sleep. He knew he shouldn’t have, but his body betrayed him.

At least he could find solace in the fact that the physical satisfaction of his unconscious orgasm wasn’t enough to make him feel better about such a disgusting nightmare.

He needed a shower. Immediately.

Tom ripped off the duvet and stood, not even bothering to stretch or open the curtains. His body was covered in a cool sheen of sweat that just served to make him feel worse.

As he approached the bathroom door, he could hear soft pellets of water raining on the floor of the marble tub. Part of him wished he had the courage to open the door and join (y/n) in there, if only just to hold her close and whisper sweet nothings to her to ground himself again.

He heard a soft moan through the door. _Fuck_. His dick twitched in his soiled boxers. _Dead puppies, dead puppies,_ he tried to will himself out of the haze. _Drowning. Getting lost in the ocean. Getting seasick on a boat. Guillaume and the crowbar._

Tom subconsciously reached behind his head and grazed the scar from that terrible transaction, and he was back to himself again. He padded away from the master bathroom and headed to the guest room instead. All he wanted to do was wash away his sins and forget the dream ever happened. He knew how he felt about (y/n), and he wouldn’t let this ruin it. She was much too precious.

After he finished bathing himself, Tom felt a million times better. A cold shower always made him feel like a new man. He had scrubbed his entire body, and then shaved his stubble afterwards. He hoped that his lover would appreciate a clean slate as much as he did.

He slipped his arms into his softest cashmere sweater and pulled a dark pair of reliable jeans over his carved hips. Normally, he wouldn’t wear jeans for lounging around the house, but he had loose plans to go into the city and get some clothing and other necessities for (y/n).

Tom found his way to the kitchen and brewed coffee for himself. He hadn’t even looked at the time until he saw it glowing on the microwave. _9:43_. It was earlier than he thought.

He decided that he had to make it up to (y/n) for his subconscious making an ass of him, even if she never knew about it. Perhaps a nice dinner and a small gift.

Fast, wet footsteps bounded toward the bedroom, and Tom’s eyebrow quirked in confusion. What could she need from the bedroom that badly?

“Tom,” she called, hurrying down the hall to the kitchen. “Thomas.”

“What is it, little dove?” he questioned, slightly anxious at her alarm. She stood before him in only a silk robe from the bathroom, still dripping from her shower. She held up a gold chain.

“Melt this down. Get rid of it.”

“What? Why?” This was hardly something to cause her panic.

“This was a gift. From my employer. _Everyone_ got one. The girls got anklets and the boys got tie pins, each with the same charm.”

“It’s a GPS,” he gasped, setting his coffee down.

“This is how she found me.” She tossed it onto the countertop. Tom leaned forward and watched the tiny, diamond eye glint under the kitchen lights. He plucked it from its resting place and examined it carefully, noting the almost-missable seam where two pieces of gold had been melted together around something—presumably the tracking chip.

“The eye is clever,” he mused, twirling the chain in his fingers.

“I just thought the same thing,” she laughed. Good to know they were on the same page.

“I bet if I can melt the gold on the charm, I could get the tracking chip out and figure out the origin of the sale. Maybe that could get us some leads. I could throw her off our trail too,” he planned aloud. “Brilliant work, little dove.” Tom focused back on the beautiful woman before him. “Are you hungry? I have to go into the city today, but I could make you something before I go. Or, if you wanted to, you can come with me and we could get brunch somewhere. I was gonna buy you some clothes, so your input might be helpful.”

(Y/n) smiled so brightly and it melted his heart.

“That’s so kind of you,” she told him, looking down at her feet with flushed cheeks. “I have faith that you’ll pick out some cute outfits. You did a great job with that cocktail dress.” Tom reached for her hand and rubbed the back of it with his thumb. “But I’m alright, Tom. I can fend for myself.”

“Are you _really_ quite sure about that, darling?” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the finger she’d cut during their cooking lesson. She laughed and pulled her hand away.

“Go get everything done that you need to get done. I’ll be alright,” she repeated. “Just come back to me in one piece.”

 _Wow_. His heart fluttered in his chest at the notion that he would come back to her. Not to the house. _To her_.

“I promise I will.”


	16. Chapter 16

Tom must have looked like a madman with all the shopping bags on his arms; Dolce & Gabbana, Old Navy, Ralph Lauren, Target… There were almost too many to count, and he kept dropping the ones hanging from his ring and little fingers. He cursed to himself for not throwing some in the Jag before he kept on to other stores, but the physical discomfort was somehow reassuring. This was for (y/n).

As for the mix of high- and low-end brands, he couldn’t decide what kind of clothes to get her. Yoga pants, sneakers, dresses, sweatshirts, or skirts? He got them all. He knew it was probably overkill, but at least he could cover most bases in one trip.

After he _finally_ dumped the bags in his car, he made his way to his last stop: a jeweler. Not just to get rid of the anklet, but Tom wanted to give (y/n) something sweet for the holiday, and jewelry seemed like the simplest yet most elegant option. The problem was that he didn’t know what to get her.

A ring would definitely be too forward; they still had so much to unpack in their relationship, and he couldn’t jeopardize it by practically proposing marriage and scaring her off!

She wasn’t much of a necklace person, either. Maybe that’s just because she never had the chance to wear them. They _were_ very dangerous to wear in hand-to-hand combat; you never knew if someone would choke you with them.

He realized that she also wasn’t into bracelets very much. When she wore one for the dinner party, all she could stand to do was fiddle with it against her wrist.

The only thing he could think of was another anklet. Surely, she had gotten used to wearing one by now, but was it too soon to offer her a replacement?

“Mr. Hiddleston.” Tom glanced up from the display case and smiled at the short, slim old man behind the counter.

“Mr. Bertrale. It’s good to see you, sir,” he greeted in his most charming voice.

“Oh, stop with the British mannersnonsense.” He grinned and shook Tom's hand. “What brings you in today?”

“Two things, actually.” He pulled the anklet out of his pocket and held it up between them. “I need this melted down. There’s a tracking chip inside that I desperately need out.”

Mr. Bertrale took the piece with surprisingly steady hands. As he examined it, his brow furrowed in confusion and… recognition.

“What is it?” Tom asked.

“I know this piece. There’s a jeweler in Florence who made several of these—probably about 50.”

“Could you get me his name?”

“ _Her_ name is Selena Garadanos.”

“My mistake,” Tom nodded, pulling out his phone and texting the name to Talia. “Thank you, sir.”

The jeweler waved him off. “What was the other thing you needed?”

“I’m looking for an anklet to replace this one. For my girlfriend. I’d like it custom.”

“Of course. What were you thinking?”

“A golden dove charm. Something really simple but elegant.” Tom dug into his pocket and pulled out the earrings (y/n) wore at the first gala. "Like these."

“I think I can manage that.”

Tom grinned. “I’ll also need you to put a different tracking chip in it.” He held up a tiny plastic bag with a chip the size of a pencil tip and placed it on the glass counter. “Could you do that?”

“Have I let you down before?” They laughed with each other and shook hands once more. “If you’re still around, I’ll have it by seven. The eye’s gonna take a little longer.”

“Thank you, Mr. Bertrale. You truly are one of a kind.”

 

* * *

 

The 36th floor smelled of lemon cleaning supplies, so Tom knew the janitorial staff had been in since the holidays.

Tom sauntered through the rows of cubicles to the frosted glass door of his office. He punched _9-2-8-1_ into the keypad and the lock clicked out of place. He wasn't so sure if his birthday was the best code, but at least it would fool all the Americans who worked for him—always writing their dates the wrong way.

Visions of (y/n) hunched behind the monitor flashed behind his eyes as he crossed the threshold, and Tom shook his head to free himself from the memory. He wanted to forget it all—to have a normal life with her. They didn’t deserve this.

He sighed and flopped down in his leather chair. A thump at his feet caught his attention.

(Y/n)’s heels.

Tom bent down and lifted both pumps onto his desk. He hadn’t noticed before, but the shiny pleather was scuffed all over. The rubber on the pointed heels was worn to almost nothing. Why hadn’t she told him that she needed new shoes? He would’ve gladly gotten her some new red soles to match his. He sighed and then chuckled, tossing the shoes in the bin beneath his desk. She was much too humble. He’d have to change that; she deserved to be spoiled rotten.

The businessman looked at the clock next to his computer. It was already 5:30—he’d be home later than he expected. He just hoped that (y/n) was able to eat something while he was away. Tom pulled out his new phone and opened a blank message. Thankfully, he had memorized her number after their first date because he never wanted to worry about finding her again.

_Have you eaten anything? -TH_

She replied almost immediately.

_Just having a banana now. Weird number? -LD_

_Got us new phones. What are you in the mood for? I'm getting some groceries while I'm out. -TH_

He chuckled to himself when he noticed her signature.

_LD. I love it, little dove. -TH_

_Thank you, Thomas. As for food… Surprise me? -LD_

_You may just regret that. -TH_

_NOTHING WITH ONIONS! -LD_

This time he laughed out loud. Stir fry would be their compromise.

_Noted. Be home soon. xxx -TH_

“Why is this door...” he heard through the glass. Talia burst through with her gun poised.

"Whoa, put it down!" he exclaimed, jumping up from his seat.

“Tom! Oh my god, sorry! I didn’t think you’d be back so soon!”

“What are _you_ doing here?” He pulled her into a warm hug.

“You know I can’t stay away from the office for long. Besides, I was looking into that Italian jeweler. She’s pretty innocuous.” She smiled up at him and patted his cheeks. “So have you been away on a honeymoon or something?”

Tom frowned.

“Did Mark not tell you?”

“Mark?” Confusion washed over her face. “From _cleanup_? Did something happen?”

He nodded and led Talia to the couch. “A lot. Two guys broke into one of the houses yesterday. (Y/n) had a GPS in her anklet.”

“What?”

“She was being tracked, and we didn’t even know. The night of the party… I found out that she’s a spy. _Was_ a spy. I should’ve known she’d be a target.”

“A _spy_? Tom are you kidd—”

“Tal, listen.” She watched him incredulously. “I have reason to believe she was coerced into it. A woman called Ms. C employed her. At first, I thought it could’ve been Say; (Y/n) was supposed to ruin the company by stealing all the clientele. It all just made so much sense until she told me the name.” Tom wrung his hands together anxiously.

“Let me back up. Are you kidding?"

"No."

"Follow up question: are you  _crazy_? You believe that?"

"Yes."

"You believe that (y/n), who you  _just_ found out is a  _spy_ , was _forced_ by someone to come after you? And now she's suddenly absolved because she's your girlfriend?"

"I—yes! No! It's complex."

"Tom, do you  _hear_ yourself?!"

“She was so afraid of her! Of me! She’s _still_ afraid of me… That woman filled her head with _lies_ …” His voice dripped with malice. “She shouldn’t have ever been part of this. She should’ve never been involved with her employer… or with me. She’s not like this.”

The two sat in silence for a few moments, just ruminating on everything that had been spilled out.

"Tom, you can't really  _believe_ this girl."

"She's just a woman who was in the wrong place at the wrong time." Tom stood. "You don't have to believe her. But I'm asking you to consider it. If something goes wrong, it's all on me."

Talia sighed.

“You look like you need a drink. Come on, I’m buying.”

Tom shook his head. “I have to get back to her. It’s getting late. She can’t cook.”

“She can’t cook? Maybe you two _are_ perfect for each other.”

That put a smile on his face.

 

* * *

 

“I can’t believe you tricked me like that. You promised no onions!” (Y/n) whined playfully.

“I never promised anything, darling. I made them big enough for you to pick out. And you ate it anyway, didn’t you?” He laughed. “You didn’t _die_.”

He watched carefully as she sipped his merlot and then handed it back to him with a grimace.

“Too dry?” She nodded in response. “We’ll get you a nice, sweet dessert wine to celebrate when you’re off your meds.”

He had to admit, the merlot wasn’t a great pairing for the stir fry but _god_ did he need a dry wine right now. There was so much going on in his head that he needed some form of release, and he wasn’t about to sleep with (y/n) to do it; the nightmare was still very much alive in his head. At least the little glimpses of domesticity helped soothe him, if only temporarily.

Their new phones lay on the coffee table before them. With that small step in the right direction, nobody outside of their immediate circle would be able to contact them. It made Tom feel a little less on edge about yesterday. Smashing the old ones with a hammer was just a bit of added stress release, if he was being completely honest. Though, it was fun to see (y/n) try and destroy her old life that way, and he hoped it made her feel just as safe as it made him feel. He had laughed when she took a photo of him and simply said “it’s for your contact photo.”

When he tried to do the same, she squirmed away and made the excuse that she looked gross. Tom pulled her hands from in front of her face and reminded her how beautiful he thought she was. Her blush made his heart thump louder in his chest. Maybe this was the way to win her over.

(Y/n) had her legs draped over his lap, and she leaned her head into his shoulder. The warmth from the fireplace and from his girlfriend filled Tom with absolute joy. This was where they were supposed to be, and he couldn’t wait until this Ms. C nonsense was over with so he could truly enjoy exploring his longest relationship in years.

“So, what did you do today?” (y/n) asked.

“I got the GPS chip out of the anklet. It's with an analyst right now.”

“Sounds exciting,” she mused, absentmindedly caressing her ankle with her other foot. When he noticed this, he knew he made the right choice in picking another anklet for her.

“What about you?”

“I accidentally napped.”

“Accidentally?” Tom quirked his eyebrow at her.

“It was unplanned.”

He ran his knuckles up and down her arm. The soft contact reassured him that she was here, and she was his.

“Any nice dreams?”

She looked away, almost ashamed. “Actually, I had a nightmare.”

“Oh.” _She’s having nightmares, too?_ “About what?”

“Uh…”

He frowned at her hesitation. “If you don't want to discuss it, I get it.”

“No, I feel like I should.” She shifted to look at him. “To get it off my chest, you know?” He nodded in response. “Um… It started out with me sprinting down the driveway… I was running from you.”

 _God,_ that hurt his chest.

“It was so cold. I was running through the woods in the snow, and you were chasing after me with your car. I could hear the engine behind me.” Tom’s brow furrowed. He didn’t like where this was going one bit. “I tripped on a tree root and hid behind the trunk, but you found me in a second. I couldn’t breathe… You… You were so angry with me. You kept laughing at me because I was crying. I…” He could tell she was holding back, but he couldn’t tell what. “You shot me in the side. And then in the chest twice… and then in the head.”

She didn’t realize she was shaking, so he took her hand in his and caressed it reassuringly.

“Then I woke up.”

Sadness threatened to consume him, but he managed to speak before his throat closed up.

“I'm sorry you had that nightmare.”

“It's just my overactive imagination, I guess. It _was_ just a nightmare.” Tom grunted in agreement, but he just scowled as he stared at the fire.

This wasn’t what he wanted to hear at all. He wanted to love her unconditionally, but he couldn’t stand that she was irrationally afraid of him. Couldn’t she see that all he wanted to do was love her? To keep her safe? He hadn’t done anything to make her question it. He was supposed to protect her from harm, not cause it. This really killed his self-confidence.

“Thank you for dinner.” He finally looked back at her. He could tell she was trying to make him feel better. The concern in her eyes helped to push away his internal angst. There was no doubting that she was tearing herself to bits over this too. He had to at least _try_ to love the part of her that feared him, if not for anything other than making her happy. They could do this together.

He offered the sweetest smile he could muster.

“It was my pleasure, little dove.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh I hope this chapter is okay! I've been sitting on it for a while now and couldn't find a better way to break it up than just making it one big chapter with three sections. Not long until we get into the real action!


	17. Chapter 17

It had been almost a week since the break in. The two had been so tired that they didn’t even stay up to bring in the New Year, but Tom found himself lying awake at 4 AM, unable to fall back asleep.

He watched the gentle rise and fall of (y/n)’s chest and smiled to himself. She was so peaceful when she slept, and it made his chest glow with warmth. He traced his fingers down the edge of her exposed shoulder, noting how soft her skin was against his. He could live the rest of his life in their bed, just holding her and nuzzling his face into her neck while she slept, and he would be perfectly content.

Tom sighed quietly and rolled into his back. Maybe he’d get up and go watch the sunrise on the hill.

 _Or maybe_ he’d wake up the beautiful woman beside him to watch the sunrise with him and give her the new anklet in the snow. How romantic!

Tom grinned to himself and swiftly rose from their bed to get ready for the day.

 

* * *

 

“Little dove,” he whispered, entering the bedroom again.

“What is it?” (y/n) grumbled, squinting at the bright light behind him. The room was still dark, except for the light from the hallway.

“I have a surprise.” He almost couldn’t contain his joy.

“Can't it wait until it gets light out?”

“We need to go before the sun rises.”

“Tooommm,” she whined, pulling the duvet over her head.

Tom just shook his head with a laugh and sat down on the mattress. He tugged back the blanket.

“Up, darling. You'll be glad.”

“What if it's a shitty surprise?”

“ _Darling_ ,” he drawled. She was being so damned stubborn, but could he really blame her when he was the one waking her up at such an early hour?

She finally gave in and reached for him to help her stand up. In her half-asleep state, she didn’t do much but stand against the wall while Tom dressed her. Tom glanced outside at the snow-covered woods and decided on one of his jumpers and some jeans.

He led her to the bathroom where he watched as she got herself ready for their early-morning tryst. Truthfully, it was nice to see her do something so simple as wash her face without any pretense of being attractive. It made his chest warm.

He made sure to give her a pair of his gloves and a scarf to keep warm.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

Tom held (y/n)’s gloved hand firmly in his own and led her down a snow-covered path behind the house. It was still dark as pitch, so he carried his Maglite to guide them through the woods.

“Where are you taking me?” (y/n) mumbled into the scarf wrapped around her neck before tripping over a boulder. Tom was quick to hold her upright. He chuckled.

“You sound like I'm kidnapping you.”

“I wouldn't be surprised if you were,” she laughed nervously with him. He furrowed his brow, but decided to let it go.

“We’re almost there, little dove. Don't you worry.” He squeezed her hand reassuringly, but she remained stiff with him.

The pair finally reached the clearing where Tom would make his romantic gesture. He couldn’t contain the excitement he felt in giving her such a thoughtful gift—well, at least it was thoughtful in his eyes.

“Oh, God. You're not going to kill me are you? Not by cliff, surely.”

_Bloody fuckin’ hell._

“Of course not. I enjoy your company far too much.”

Tom turned off the flashlight and positioned her so she looked toward the opening in the trees. He wrapped his arms around her waist and chuckled, albeit sadly, into her shoulder at how romantic this _should’ve_ been. Tears stung at his eyes, but he refused to let them fall.

(Y/n) spun around and pulled him down into a hard kiss. His body melted into hers.

“I enjoy yours as well, Thomas,” she breathed as they parted. He couldn’t help but smile.

“Oh, I love when you say my full name.”

She smiled back—and he could see it was genuine—and kissed him again. The sky grew lighter, and once they parted, Tom turned her back around to watch the sun rise over the valley. Snow covered the expanse, glistening in the sunlight. It reminded him of the way it felt before everything happened.

“There's one more surprise.” She turned back around and gazed into his eyes. He reached into his pocket. “Here it is.”

Her mouth hung agape, and Tom could see her breath cloud in the frozen air between them.

“Oh my god, please tell me it _isn’t_ a ring.”

“No, it's not.” He pulled out the small velvet box and stroked its soft exterior with his thumb. “I remember you saying you missed the anklet—that you felt like something was missing without it.” He cracked open the box to reveal a golden chain with a small, flat, golden dove charm. “I figured you'd like a new one—one that doesn't send people after us.”

He saw her eyes well with tears. “Oh my god, Thomas.”

“Consider it a late Christmas gift or a little something to begin the new year with.” He knelt down into the snow and unclasped the chain. “Little dove, would you do me the honor of accepting this expensive piece of jewelry?” he joked.

“Yes, yes! A thousand times, yes!” They laughed together as Tom fastened the anklet into place. “This is so thoughtful, Thomas. Thank you.”

“Of course. Anything for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long since I last updated and also that this is short. Lost my muse for a bit, but I'm hoping to jump back into this.
> 
> :)


	18. Chapter 18

He had tried to alleviate both their anxieties by taking her to watch the sunrise and gifting her with the new anklet, but even still, she had questioned his loyalty. It tore him apart trying to stay true to her and to his own desires. He couldn’t sleep when he lay next to her because of it. The bed was too stiff. The room was too hot. The curtain was too sheer. There were so many excuses he made to himself, but deep down he knew it was because he still wasn’t comfortable with their dynamic; she was too closed off to him for his own liking.

Tom knew she deserved more than a man consumed by his own self-loathing. He had to push through for her. It was just _so hard_ when he kept giving her his all with nothing from her in return. She deserved his all, but he deserved her’s too.

Tears welled in his eyes as he sat against the bathtub with his phone to his ear. “Talia, I _love_ her. I love her _so_ dearly. But she doesn’t trust me. How can I make her trust me?”

 _“Tom… Tom, please don’t cry.”_ She sighed on the other end. _“She_ does _love you. I’ve seen the way she looks at you. You said she’s afraid of you? She’s just afraid that you don’t love her back. She’s afraid that whatever her handler told her about you is true. You just have to give her time.”_

“I don’t know how long I can wait,” he breathed.

 _“You don’t have that choice.”_ He looked up at the ceiling in frustration. What the _hell_ did that mean? _“Tom, you can’t force her to trust you. If you really love her, you have to be by her side through it. She’ll come around.”_

Tom huffed and looked at the silk robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door, feeling immensely selfish with himself. Why couldn’t he just break (y/n) out of the haze she was in? He knew it was true—that he had to wait for her to come around. He was just being stubborn. But what else could he do to show just how much he loved her? He already tried _everything_.

As if reading his mind, Talia sighed.

_“You have to want her the way she is.”_

Tom stiffened at that. That’s what (y/n) told him in his nightmare. Is _this_ what it meant? That he has to love all of her, including the part of her that can’t bring herself to trust him yet? Is that why her face was blurred? Because he didn’t love _all_ of her?

He could’ve vomited right then.

“I have to go.”

_“Tom—”_

He hung up before she could say anything else. He and (y/n) needed to talk this out sooner rather than later.

Too bad it was two in the morning and she was passed out in his bed.

He sighed, stood, and headed back to the bedroom. If he couldn’t sleep, at least he could appreciate how at-ease she was in her sleep. He could admire the soft lines of her beautiful face… the swell of her lips… the bridge of her nose…

As soon as his ass hit the mattress, (y/n) rolled toward him with a tired groan.

 _God damn it, Hiddleston_.

“Go back to sleep, little dove.” He didn’t dare look at her now. If he did, he wouldn’t be able to hold back; everything would come out after one glance into those wary eyes.

“What's the matter?” _Fuck_. Her groggy voice made his gut twist.

“Nothing.” He had to see her just once before he went to bed… “Go back to sleep.”

“You're lying.” She sat up and flicked on the light. Tom squinted but watched as (y/n) gave him a once over. He slumped back onto the wall in defeat. “Tell me what's the matter.” His heart clenched at the concern in her voice. It was all gonna come out now.

“Why do you not trust me?” he blurted.

“What?”

“When I gave you the anklet yesterday… Right before I did, you asked me if I was going to push you off the cliff.” He snickered in disbelief and rubbed his eyes and cheeks with one of his large hands. He felt like an idiot even trying to explain himself. “You have reiterated multiple times that you feel like I'm just trying to deceive you. And you’re having nightmares about me killing you, and you jump whenever I come up behind you or into a room unannounced.”

“I'm just paranoid,” she whispered.

“Why? What is there to be paranoid about?”

“I don't know. I just… I don't know.”

“Please, tell me more about what you don't know,” he spat. _No, god, idiot! Don’t yell at her!_

“She brainwashed me, Thomas! She always told me you were the enemy and would stop at nothing to seduce me and turn me against her. I took a leap of faith—”

“Haven't I earned your trust?” His voice cracked with the burning threat of tears.

“—because it was either be tortured and killed by her for failing my task or risk conversion, torture, or death for the possibility of safety with you.” He stood from the mattress in annoyance. He was getting absolutely nowhere.

“So, you trust in her artificial paranoia but not in me? I _saved_ your life!”

“And I am _grateful_! I'm grateful for all the things you've done for me! I think it's perfectly okay that I'm a little bit afraid of you!” she cried. “I know what you're capable of. I've done some terrible things that you probably have too! I'm sorry for not wanting to end up dead in an alley or the woods somewhere because I let my heart get in the way of my head!”

God, did she even _hear_ herself? She was being so bloody irrational! Tom stalked around the bed, hoping the close proximity would help knock some sense into her.

“Get out of your self-pitying bubble, (y/n)! I didn't even know you were a spy until that night! Why would I even try to cross you? _You’re_ the one who should be earning my trust, not the other way around! You and I are working toward the same goal! We’re trying to get rid of her! We’re partners now, whether you like it or not. And do you know what partners do, (y/n)? They _trust each other_ ! They _care_ for each other. You don't think I have feelings too? What if I let them get in the way of my head? Huh?! We would _both_ die! But that doesn't stop me from trusting you! I've trusted you since we met in that art gala, and I still do, even though I know you were _blatantly lying_ to get close to me!” Tom was vibrating with effort it took to stay upright. He wanted to give up—to fall to his knees in defeat. But he needed to get through to her somehow.

“It wasn't all a lie!” (Y/n) had tears freely streaming down her cheeks now. “Everything that night—every date, everything I said, everything I did—was real! The only thing I kept from you was my job! I fell _so_ _hard_ for you that night that I forgot I was on a mission until you handed me your coat and left. Why do you even care so much about whether I trust you or not?!”

“BECAUSE I _LOVE_ YOU, (Y/N)!” he shouted. _Holy shit._ He finally said it.

His girlfriend stood there, shocked and shaking.

“Because I…” he barely whispered, running a hand through his hair, finally calming down. “Because I love you.” Tears streamed down both of their cheeks. “I fell in love with you the first time I laid eyes on you.”

Wide eyes stared back at him as if he had just admitted the truth of the universe… as if he’d told her the one thing she’d been longing to hear her entire life. How could he stay mad when she looked at him like that?

“You love me?”

“Of course!” he breathed. “Of course I _fucking_ love you, you stupid, beautiful, brilliant girl.” He cupped her cheeks in his hands. “I absolutely love you.” He kissed her hard and long, like she would disappear if he let her go. Tom walked her back against the wall, drawing a whimper from (y/n). “I love you,” he murmured against her lips. He kissed down her jaw, whispering “I love you” over and over like a mantra until she really believed it. (Y/n) fisted her hand in his hair and let her head fall back against the wall.

“Thomas,” she breathed.

He continued his worship of her body. He suckled her left nipple through the thin fabric of her shirt. She arched into him, and he took that as a sign to continue onto the next breast, leaving a cool, wet spot on the shirt in his wake. Tom kissed up her chest and latched onto her neck, sure to mark her. He wasn’t normally one to get possessive, but _christ_ if he didn’t want her to look in the mirror tomorrow and be reminded of his love and lust for her.

“Thoooommaasss…” Her grip on his hair faltered as he hoisted her up to straddle him.

“I love you,” he reminded her. He spun around and headed toward the bed. He tossed (y/n) onto the mattress and crawled on top of her. Tom made quick work of her shirt as she wriggled out of her panties. Her fingers tugged his shirt over his head, and he pulled down his boxers and tossed them to the floor.

Just as he was about to inch his way down her body to eat her like she was his last meal, she blurted, “I want to ride you!”

Tom’s dick twitched and he almost lost his cool. She wanted to be on top? Absolutely fine by him.

“As you wish.”

She grinned and straddled him, kissing his neck and chest while teasing him with her hips. Tom’s eyes fell heavy with lust until she pinned his wrists at his sides, catching him by surprise. _Oh, fuck_ , he thought. _How did I end up with such a beautiful, versatile woman_. She finally pressed a sweet kiss to his lips and moved a hand from his wrist to his shaft. Tom groaned beneath her as she lined herself up with him.

He couldn’t wait to watch her cunt swallow him whole. The thought of filling her with his dick and pounding into her until she chanted his name and took all of his cum—

“Wait!” he choked, startling her onto her ass between his legs. _Bloody hell_. His kinks almost got the best of him.

“What’s wrong?”

“We are _not_ risking it. I love you, but I want no children in this situation.” Her eyes were wide with realization.

“Where?”

“Your side.” She yanked the drawer open and fumbled with the box of condoms before pulling one out and ripping the packet open with her teeth. God, was she trying to kill him before they even fucked? “You're not supposed to do that, you know,” he teased and waggled his eyebrow at her.

“Yeah, but it's sexy, so shut up.” She rolled the condom down his cock and sank onto him.

“Ohhh… Oh, little dove,” he moaned. The way she pressed her hands into his chest for leverage made him smile.

“Speaking of trust, you're my first, by the way.”

 _Fucking shit!_ That was probably the hottest thing she could say right now, but why didn’t she say anything before? He would’ve waited and made it special for her.

“I almost came right… then, you seductress,” he strained out, trying is best to inflate her adorable ego.

“Enjoy it,” she told him before kissing his chest. She looked up at him through her lashes. “I'm only a virgin once.” Tom moaned. Even if this was her first time, she _knew_ what she was doing.

“I like this side of you.” She slid up his length and eased herself back down, clenching her muscles around him. “Ah… ah... ah…” he breathed. “Makes me think of you on missions. My sexy spy seducing others into submission.” _Of course,_ he realized. _She would’ve had to learn how to be sexy for the job_.

“Whatever works for you,” she laughed and leaned into his ear to moan, “ _Thomas._ ”

“Fu-uh-ck,” he growled. Heat built up in his stomach and he shivered as he reached a small release. His dick twitched inside her, but it didn’t go soft just yet.

“I tend to—” She whimpered. “—be submissive on jobs, actually.”

Tom raised an eyebrow at her.

“Really?”

“I usually am at home when I masturbate, too.” Her eyes screwed shut as she bounced faster on top of him, no doubt working hard to find her own release. “When we first started dating… I used to think about what you'd do to me when we finally slept together… So many dirty thoughts of you taking control.” She leaned close and nuzzled her nose into the side of his neck. “I'm just riled up right now from our—” Another whimper. “—fight. I needed your cock so bad and didn't want to wait.”

Tom smirked to himself and rolled his eyes. _Insatiable_. He was wrong to think her so prude. He lifted himself onto his elbows and flipped her over onto her back. Tom crawled over her and stared her down, her chest heaving against his.

“Then allow me to tap into my favored dominant side for the both of us,” he purred.

He slid into her again and rocked his hips back and forth at a snail’s pace. He secured both of her hands in one of his above her head and used the leverage he gained with his free hand to pound into her. Gasps tumbled from her throat as the force of his thrusts inched her up the mattress. He released her wrists to reach down and flick her clit. His fingertips rolled it around and pressed it into her body, and he delighted in watching her buck up off the bed and squirm at the pleasure he gave her.

“Come.”

“N-no. I'm strong enough to keep—ah—pleasuring you first.”

Tom chuckled. She was too sweet.

“I said…” He leaned down next to her ear and licked the shell of it as he pushed down on her clit one more time. “ _Come_ , little dove.”

(Y/n) shivered and cried out, flexing her fingers and toes. Her whole body shuttered beneath him, and that was enough to finally push Tom over the edge. He wished he could’ve filled her with his cum instead of the condom, but for now he’d just have to play it safe.

Tom collapsed on top of her but rolled them both over so he didn’t crush her. She straddled him and rested her head on his chest. Her breath slowed as he lay there with her in his arms.

To say that he was relieved would be an understatement. If she trusted him enough to take her virginity, then she was probably ready to trust him with everything else.

“So…” she breathed. “Round two?”

* * *

Good god, what a night that was.

Tom lay on the mattress with his arm bent beneath the back of his head. The sun shone through a crack in the curtains, and he smiled to himself at the feeling of his lover’s skin against his own. She was on her side next to him—her back and butt pressed to him. She truly was the most beautiful woman he’d ever known.

(Y/n) turned over to face him, sleep still written all over her face.

“Good morning, little dove.” He nuzzled his nose into her cheek.

“I love you,” she blurted. Tom grinned. “I didn't say it last night, but I really, really love you.”

“I know you do.” He twisted her hair between his fingers lazily as they lay next to each other. He could tell she was watching him, but it didn’t bother him; he was too busy thinking about how he was ready to make her the happiest woman in the world. “You know, you make cute noises when you sleep,” he mentioned. “Quiet little moans and sometimes mumbles.”

“That's embarrassing.” She blushed and hid her face in the crook of his neck.

“It's adorable. You also curl up as small as possible, which makes it easier to cuddle with you.”

“I'm glad I make sleeping convenient.” Tom kissed her nose. “I have to say, I enjoy being naked. I used to sleep in the nude all the time.”

“I also enjoy you naked.” He smirked. _Oh, yes he did._

“I know you do, Thomas.”

“Does this mean you'll walk around topless more?” he joked.

“Maybe. I'll definitely sleep naked from now on.” That made his heart skip a beat. He couldn’t wait to sleep next to her and caress her soft skin every night. “Unless it’s too cold, or I don't want to.”

“Perfect.” He grinned brighter than the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for putting up with my sporadic posting. I've been very tired lately, and this fic gets harder and harder to write as I move through it. I hope it still meets expectation and that you're all still enjoying this! Don't be afraid to give a little shout in the comments if you do (I really need it!).


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